


A Million Different Ways

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two sides of the coin, two universes starting to collide. In one, Sam and Dean have settled down in a home with friends, jobs, and love. In the other they are hunters just barely holding onto a rocky partnership. One day the universes begin to unravel and the only way to stop it is to make the ultimate sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the major character death: the story does have a happy ending, trust us on this one!

There was something wonderful about waking to the sounds of birds chirping, the distant laughter of kids heading to the bus, and his brother’s gentle puffs of air, just the slightest little wheeze as he inhaled. A slow smile curled along Dean’s lips before he even opened his eyes and he rolled, sliding his arm along sleep-warm skin. Their alarm would go off not too long from now, he was pretty sure, but Dean always woke up before that happened, it was just for safety.

Nose brushing through long, thick brown locks, Dean pressed his lips to creamy skin and hummed softly. He worked gentle kisses along the back of his brother’s neck, across his shoulder blade. He could tell when Sam was awake by the way his heartbeat quickened slightly, chest rising and falling just a little faster beneath him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, the word a sleep laced growl, quiet enough that someone across the room wouldn’t be able to hear it. “Had this dream about a beach in Jamaica and you and me in the water. We should make it happen.” He smiled against the soft skin he was still kissing his way along, hand smoothing across Sam’s side.

There was a smile pushing its way on to Sam's lips. Stretching his arms up high he grabbed the headboard and arched his back, then settled back to slip his hand over Dean's. "I remember when you used to wake up _really_ bitchy."

“I remember when I didn’t get really hot sex each night.” Dean chuckled softly and slid back enough to pull at Sam, rolling him over onto his back and sliding against him once more. “You miss my bitchy mornings?” His fingers tickled along Sam’s sides, lips pressing into his jaw.

Giving up hunting was the _best_ thing they had ever done, even if Sam had wondered if they would live through the transformation. It wasn’t easy to go from hunting each day, fighting for your life or someone else’s half the time and then trying to be, well, normal. “I don’t miss it at all.”

Sam shifted his hips slightly to get away from the teasing touch and grabbed at Dean’s shoulder to pull him up so that their lips drifted closer together, then met. Kissing Dean was _still_ the single most amazing way to start his day.

Moaning softly into the kiss, Dean slid his hand up through Sam’s hair, body shifting over his brother’s. “Love this,” he breathed and settled his hips over Sam’s. “Oh yeah, can you swing by the store later?” He grinned as he kissed his way along Sam’s neck, sucking softly at his skin. “Need hamburger buns, for the BBQ.”

Yeah, Dean still got a kick out of the domestic lifestyle, but who could blame him? He had a lot of years to catch up on and it was a strange, pleasant thing to be put in a place where he could enjoy the novelties of a simple thing like a gathering of friends. “Need more lube, too,” he breathed and rolled his hips down, dragging his teeth along Sam’s collar bone.

“What a combination?” Sam’s lips were still tingling from Dean’s morning stubble and now the rest of him was well on the way to being over-stimulated first thing. “Time is it?”

“Quarter past eight,” Dean breathed, kissing his way back up, slanting his lips over his brother’s and flicking his tongue out over the silky warmth of Sam’s. “Got an early case?” He pretended to know all about Sam’s work; in truth he knew very little but he always listened when Sam spoke about it. Yet another of the things Dean never knew he wanted until it was already his.

“Meeting at ten, my turn to pick up muffins or something. Sometimes, I think about the luxuries I could have had if I worked at a commercial law firm. This Legal Aid shit is for the birds.” Sam didn’t mean it, and he knew that _Dean_ knew he didn’t mean it. In Sam’s little piece of the legal world he felt like he was still fighting the bad guys. Funny. Maybe it had been Sam all along who hadn’t wanted to give that up rather than his BBQ-organizing brother.

“MM, you love it.” Dean chuckled softly and pushed up enough to stare down into his brother’s eyes, smiling at him. “That mean you gotta get up and shower, Princess? Need your time to primp and curl?” He smirked slightly and shifted his body lower, slanting their hips together so he could feel the heat of Sam’s morning arousal. “Or can you squeeze in some extra time to remind me why this is so perfect?”

“I don’t have to look _that_ pretty for work.” Sam’s hips rolled up deliberately. “Can’t leave me like this all day.”

“That would be cruel,” Dean pointed out and slid to the side of Sam’s body, dropping a hand down to curl around Sam’s cock, stroking and watching his face as the thick heat grew harder under his grasp. “Sam?” He tilted his head up slightly, wetting his lips. “Kiss me.” It wasn’t about needing Sam to make it happen, it was more enjoying knowing Sam wanted this just as much as Dean always did, always would.

 _Kiss me._ There were some things Sam didn’t care if he ever heard again, like _holy water_ , or _vampire_ , but _kiss me_? Sam could hear that a thousand times over and never tire of it. Each time Dean’s lips parted and those words came out Sam’s life got a little easier to live, his breaths a little easier to take.

Pressing up, Sam moaned and slanted his mouth over his brother’s. His tongue slipped forward quickly, insistent, seeking out the heat he knew was waiting just on the other side of Dean’s lips. A thrust of Sam’s hips sent his rigid flesh gliding through Dean’s grasp and he felt a swirl of heat spark to life deep inside him.

Dean’s lips parted easily under his lover’s questing tongue. Sam was so many things now, so many classifications. His brother, always. His lover, here and in all their private moments that were made up of perfection. And his partner, to their friends and neighbors who thought Winchester was originally Dean’s last name and became Sam’s before they moved here, like they were a nice and normal married gay couple. Dean loved all those things but mostly, Sam was just _his_.

As their tongues moved together Dean rolled slightly, slipping his free hand beneath the pillow to grab the stored bottle of lube. Sam sucked his tongue hard as Dean pressed more firmly into his side, shifted around to slick his fingers. It was more foreplay than anything else, and maybe Dean’s always-nagging desire to make sure that every time they were together was perfect, just in case.

“Still open for me?” Dean growled into the kiss, fingers sliding down from Sam’s cock, grazing along his balls and pressing behind at the puckered entrance. His finger slipped inside easily, a second joining suit just as quickly. “You are,” he panted against his brother’s lips, catching the swollen bottom one between his teeth and dragging out. “Gonna fuck you, so you feel me all day. Wanna feel me every time you move today, Sammy?”

“Yes, _fuck_.” Lately, whenever Dean touched him like that, spoke to him with that voice, Sam got _so_ turned on he could hardly function. He figured, maybe, it was because of the years they spent ignoring what was between them. Maybe it just would have always been like that. Sam didn’t really care. What he cared about was Dean. That much _was_ easy to figure out.

Dean could watch the flush on Sam’s body grow for hours, could watch each little movement, the way he rocked back onto his fingers so easily, and never tire of it. Not meaning he wouldn’t want more. Because he _always_ wanted more. His lips crushed against Sam’s once more as his fingers withdrew and grabbed the bottle once more, slicking himself with slow, long pulls along his cock.

With a soft moan he pulled back from Sam’s lips, pushing up to his knees and shoving at his brother to flip him onto his stomach. Even though they didn’t need to be fit for hunting anymore - hadn’t needed to be for years - they both continued to work out and sometimes Dean struggled against his brother’s strength. This wasn’t the case now though; Sam flipped easily for him and by the time he was lining up at his lover’s entrance, Sam was already up on his knees, body bent up toward him.

“Fuck. Love seein’ you like this,” Dean growled and slapped a hand hard down against Sam’s ass, thumbs pulling his brother’s ass apart, kneading at the flesh. “You want it, Sammy? Want me in you?” He smacked an open palm against the creamy white skin once more, rocking his body forward so that his cock slid along the cleft, smearing lube and pre-come.

"God I hate you," Sam muttered. But his body rocked back again and he arched his spine as his legs spread wider for Dean. Just like Dean knew what turned Sam on, Sam knew what would make his brother _take_ what he wanted. Reaching down between his legs, Sam gripped his already weeping shaft and stroked slowly. "Take care of myself," he muttered.

“Sam-” Dean growled sharply and reached around his brother’s body, tugging his hand away from his cock and wrapping it quickly behind Sam’s back. Holding his arm in place, Dean drove forward with one hard thrust, slamming balls-deep into his lover with one swift movement. The growl still lingering in his chest shifted to a moan, deep and guttural as he pulled back until just the head of him split Sam open, before driving his hips forward in another snapping thrust.

Letting out an almost breathless moan, Sam pushed back wanting more. _Always_ with the wanting more, it seemed to be the way of things. Torn between wanting the fullness of Dean's length buried in him and the anticipation of that barely-there-burn, Sam was restless. Tugging slightly on his arm still trussed up behind his back, he tested his brother's grip and felt a thrill of heat singe its way down his spine when Dean tightened his grip. There was something particularly hot about Dean holding him there, and sometimes, the rougher Dean got the more Sam's walls fell down.

Fingers tightening around Sam’s arm, pushing it firmly into his back, Dean thrust hard enough into Sam to have his one arm holding him up buckle. As his hips drew back once more Dean bent forward, snagging Sam’s unpinned arm and causing his chest to fall down onto the mattress. Sam’s moan was buried in the blanket as Dean held both wrists against Sam’s lower back and snapped his hips forward _hard_. A moan tore through him, deep and resounding, heart pushing up along his system just from feeling Sam’s muscles constricting around him with each thrust.

Each breath Sam tired to draw in was a bit of a struggle. Face pressed to the blanket he twisted slightly, hair clinging to his cheek and lips. "Dean," he groaned. All he was capable of was moaning out soft sighs after that because Dean's cock slammed into him at just the right angle, and Sam's world lit up like a Christmas tree. Flashes of white light shot across his field of vision and he wasn’t even sure if he was actually making any sounds anymore.

The give and pull of Sam’s body was always intoxicating, making Dean’s pace quicken, his breath falling in harsher, sharper pants. Closing his eyes, Dean released Sam’s hands and let his fingers slide around his body instead. He curled a fist around his brother’s cock, stroking in sharp tugs that matched the nearly brutal pace of his deep thrusts forward. He wanted Sam to fall apart at his touch, wanted him to _feel_ this all day long, every time he moved. A bead of sweat trickled down Sam’s spine and Dean pressed down over him, licking at the musky drop, sinking his teeth into the muscle to mark him.

Breath harsh as it rushed past his lips, Sam groaned softly at the _painpleasure_ of Dean's sharp bite. Dragging his hands up the bed he simply stretched his arms high above his head so that his fingers could hook over the bars on the headboard. Dean's transformation from sweet and tender to brutal and severe was so fast it made Sam's mind spin in the best possible way. Every thrust was full strength and sent aftershocks up Sam's back.

Free hand curling around Sam’s hip, Dean pulled him up and angled his body down, driving in hard until he could feel his brother’s body jerk at the hard thrust into his prostate. Dean aimed for the spot, hitting it over and over as his thrusts took on a new level of jerky intensity. It was all ending too soon; Dean stroked his brother’s cock hard and tight, thumb rolling along the head and pressing down as his orgasm built up in him.

Moaning Sam’s name low in his throat, Dean drove forward hard with the burst of his release, filling Sam with sticky hot come. His fingers tightened hard enough on the man’s hips to likely leave bruises but he knew neither of them would really care.

For an instant Sam's world froze around him, the heat of his brother's release sending heady waves of pleasure racing through him. It took a fair amount of effort for Sam to suck in air seconds after Dean cried out because of the force of his own orgasm. Balls tight and full, ass clenching around his brother's girth, cock pulsing - Sam keened into the blanket. There was no point in trying to keep still. His hips were in constant motion, circling, twisting and jolting as every last shudder of pleasure worked its way through him.

Dean pulled back and out with a groan, dropping down onto the bed beside his brother and panted slightly. Sam was still kneeling, ass still up in the air, and Dean managed a slight smirk before he dragged him over, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss. “Best way to start the day,” he murmured against his brother’s lips, hand sliding up through damp locks.

Laughing softly then wincing, Sam tried to move away from the wet spot on the blanket and closer to the heat radiating off of his brother's body. "Yeah, and now you gotta do laundry again. It's your turn, ya keep making a mess." Letting his head fall to his brother's chest, Sam invested some precious moments in trying to figure out how he was supposed to actually get up and walk after being fucked like that.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll throw a load in before I head to the shop. Got a sweet ‘65 Mustang waiting for me.” Dean hummed softly, hand sliding down his brother’s back and pulling him closer. “Gonna be able to move today?” he teased quietly, closing his eyes to enjoy the blissful aftermath of their shared releases.

“Not without thinkin’ ‘bout you,” Sam muttered. Turning his head he wiped the sweat off his forehead onto Dean’s chest and grinned. “Not such a bad thing, though.” There were times when thinking about Dean was what got Sam through the worst of his day - the images he didn’t want to see, the cases that left a bad taste in his mouth.

“That was the plan.” Dean laughed and swatted Sam when he moved to wipe even more sweat on him. “Go take your shower. I’ll throw together some eggs so you won’t be eating just crap for breakfast.” The irony wasn’t lost on Dean, who once considered a good way to start the day coffee with copious amounts of sugar and a bear claw smeared with honey glaze. “Can you swing the store today? Or you need me to do it?”

“What am I getting again?” Sam rolled to the edge of the bed and stretched in the sun that was already beating through the curtains that they never seemed to close.

Chuckling softly, Dean laid his hand on Sam’s stomach and rubbed softly. “Hamburger buns. And lube. The odd combination, remember?” It would be pretty funny to watch Sam purchase such random items; Dean almost wished he could tag along just to see him try not to flush at the checkout lane.

“Oh, that’s right,” Sam’s fingers threaded through his brother’s, “how did I forget that?” Flashing a warm smile at Dean he groaned and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor. Despite what he’d thought when their relationship had first changed it never got any easier to leave Dean in the mornings.

“Really good sex?” Dean offered and slid in behind Sam, legs draping along either side, arms wrapping around his middle. Laying his head on his brother’s back, Dean sighed softly and considering just keeping him in bed all day. “Wanna do lunch today? Or is that meeting a long one?” It amazed Dean that sometimes he couldn’t stand the idea of being away from Sam even for a few hours, but he kind of liked it so it wasn’t that hard to accept.

“I can meet you, should I come to the shop?” Sam leaned back and smiled.

“Yeah. I’ll show you the Mustang.” Dean buried his nose into the back of Sam’s hair, breathing in deeply. “Do I gotta let you go now?” he asked quietly, smiling against the nape of his brother’s neck.

“Much as I hate it, yeah. Gotta go save people.” Running his hands once quickly along his brother’s legs Sam twisted to press their lips together one last time before standing. “Gonna shower,” he said.

“‘Kay, I’ll get some food ready.” Dean smiled up at him before pushing off the bed as well, snatching a pair of boxers from the ground. It didn’t matter if they were his or Sam’s, he’d change later anyway. And just thinking that made the smile grow on his lips.

While Dean fixed up an egg burrito for his brother to eat on his way to work, he hummed a medley of songs under his breath. There were people from Dean’s past that would make fun of him for the way he was now but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. After so many years he damn well deserved to be happy. If his happiness happened to include being at a mechanic shop working on classic cars and living with his brother in a place of domestic bliss, then he’d take it.

By the time he heard the shower turn off and the rustle of his brother moving around the bedroom, the food was ready. Dean wrapped the burrito in a paper towel and screwed the top onto Sam’s coffee mug, carrying them over to the door of the kitchen so he could meet Sam in the hallway.

Sam was dressed in a nice pair of tan slacks and a crisp pressed light blue shirt. Dean grinned at him and held up the objects in his hand as he stepped down the hall. “Breakfast to go. Now tell me I’m not the best lover ever.” His smile softened as Sam stepped toward him, holding the items back when Sam reached out. “What do you say?”

Shaking his head Sam tried hard not to smile. “I say, you’re the _best_ lover ever. In the whole world even. Of all time. Seriously.” Trying for a serious look he nodded again.

Snorting, Dean rolled his eyes, stepping forward and pouting his lips out. “Give me a kiss for my hard work.” Dean was secure enough with himself to act this way sometimes and not be too bothered by how ridiculous it made him look.

Tilting his head slightly, Sam’s expression softened. He loved _this_ Dean, the one without all the hangups and that haunted look of tension that had never seemed to leave. Barely a moment passed and he was crushing his lips to Dean’s, hands falling to the man’s hips. When he finally tore himself away from his brother’s mouth he was panting slightly and Dean’s cheeks were flushed with color. “We good now?”

“Hmm?” Dean’s eyes fluttered open and he grinned slowly up at his brother. “Not very tempted to let you go now.” He murmured and stepped back before he could make his brother late. Holding out the items, changing the direction to bring the burrito to his mouth and take a bite.

A strange, almost humming noise started quietly and then stirred up at a steadily growing rate. Dean frowned, the edges of his vision blurring slightly. His eyes widened as he stared at his brother, stepping forward on instinct. “Sammy?” he asked in a hushed whisper, blinking to clear away the fuzziness.

Sam’s hand reached for Dean’s wrist as he also stumbled forward, colliding hard with Dean’s chest. “Christ...” It was like watching the world through plastic wrap, everything seemed to bubble and warp and Sam could feel bile rising in the back of his throat.

The coffee mug slipped from Dean’s fingers and he momentarily felt the splash of overheated liquid before everything blacked out and the ground connected hard with his body.

Roughly five years ago things changed in Dean’s life. It was a small, subtle thing that came after too many drinks and a slightly more adrenaline-pumping hunt than usual and he hadn’t really thought about how much it affected him except in moments like these. When he woke up incredibly turned on and heart aching for a dream that had felt so vividly real he thought he could still taste lips against his own.

This, however, was not the case. When he blinked his eyes open he was alone in the motel bed, staring up at a stain on the ceiling he didn’t even want to _try_ and name. Turning his head to the side he could see Sam’s lump curled under the blankets of the opposite bed, likely still sleeping. Dean pursed his lips and climbed out of bed, moving quickly to head for the shower. He couldn’t shake the picture of Sam’s body folded under his, the way his moans had sounded as he slammed into him.

 _God_ that was fucked up. Dean had really thought he put those fantasies behind him after that one time so long ago when Sam had pushed him away. It was _stupid_ to think about his fucking _brother_ like that. Sam had been the smart one, stopping things before anything could happen. But no matter how hot he got the water, or how much he scrubbed himself, he couldn’t get the images to go away. It made his head hurt and it sucked that _this_ was how his day was starting. He was going to have to bite his tongue to keep from being a complete asshole to his brother all day. The last thing he needed was to fight with him, too.

Sam had heard the shower start up; it didn’t wake him but meant he didn’t have to lie there pretending to be asleep any longer. Swearing softly, he threw the covers back and ran both hands through his hair. Dreaming about _playing house_ with Dean was not Sam’s idea of a good night’s sleep. When he was certain he could walk around in his boxers without Dean seeing the obvious bulge he stormed over to get his jeans. Tugging them on in one quick movement, he found a t-shirt and jammed it down over his head.

Obsessing over one kiss was stupid. There had been beer, granted not much but still. And so what if Sam could admit his brother was an attractive guy and maybe their lives actually _were_ as fucked up as they seemed. No big deal.

Swearing again, Sam grabbed his laptop and sank down onto the wobbly chair by the table and then flipped the screen up.

Dean was relieved that Sam was up when he came out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to even _think_ about his brother in bed, it was all just a bit too fresh in his mind. Where the hell did he come up with that kind of dream anyway? He’d been almost a completely different person in it, all sweet and sentimental and thinking about how much he would miss Sam when they parted ways for work. _God_.

“Breakfast,” Dean grunted, heading for his duffel bag to change. “Got a craving for an egg burrito.” It was almost like he could still taste it in his mouth too, which was... weird. He considered what he ate the night before, making a mental note not to have it again before trying to sleep.

“Gimme a min.” Sam tried not to sound irritated and failed. Finishing up reading his email was more about stalling for time than anything else. It wasn’t like he got anything personal anymore. After years of hunting there might be an email from Bobby but the rest was just newsletters and updates. _Spam._ Rubbing at his eyes he snapped the laptop closed and stood, tugging his jeans down.

He was unsettled, like something really shitty had happened today already and he just hadn’t remembered it yet. It was that kind of _dread_ that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The dream had been vivid, _real_ , and he’d had those before but maybe this was more about the subject matter than the dreaming. The fact that his mind was willing to make up a world where he and Dean were living out the perfect apple pie life - only _way_ fucking hotter - was mental. Sam was crazy. That was the only conclusion. “Had a weird dream,” he muttered.

The words stopped Dean halfway through pulling down his shirt. Their lives were just weird enough that dreams could mean something even if he didn’t always want them to mean anything. “What kind of dream?” There was a level of annoyance and agitation to Sam’s words that had Dean pursing his lips slightly, moving over to get his boots.

“Just ... a messed up dream.” Sighing, Sam grabbed his jacket. “One of those ones where it’s like I lived it...instead of dreamed it. You know?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded and shifted his feet in his boots, biting down on his lip. “Hamburger buns,” he added quietly and glanced at Sam from under his lashes, judging his mood to see if the words meant anything. It seemed like the safest thing to address on the dream issue, anything else would be _way_ too much.

“You dreamed about hamburger bu-” Sam froze halfway through stuffing a long arm into his sleeve. _Hamburger buns and lube._ Blinking a few times, Sam stared at his brother’s face until his eyes started to water. Enough crazy things had happened to them in the past five years that really? This was a coincidence Sam should be able to live with. “Weird. What kind of dream? Did you have, I mean.” Dropping his gaze, Sam put his boots on and spent far longer than he actually needed lacing them up.

“Uh.” Dean wet his lips and considered if he could shrug this all off. Only, if he and Sam had dreamed the same thing, that was, weird. And maybe something to be mentioned. “Not hunting. Living in uh, some house. You were a legal aid? I was a mechanic. Something about a sweet ‘65 Mustang.” Dean frowned. He could remember feeling _so_ excited about working on it. He bit down on his lip to keep from saying anything more. There were some details Sam didn’t need to know. Shrugging, Dean turned to grab his coat, keeping his eyes everywhere but on his brother. “Weirdly normal. Kinda.”

If Sam had just kept his mouth shut and not asked that question they would have been heading out the door, bickering about where to get breakfast. But no, he was stumbling back because he stood up _far_ too quickly and the head rush made him dizzy. When he banged into the chair again he decided to just go with it and sit down. "Really? Uh...like-" Sam swallowed, throat so tight he _heard_ it click. "Like suburbia? Morning sex and making breakfast kinda thing?" He had tried to make it sound like their usual banter - it didn't work.

Any doubt Dean had that they hadn’t had the same dream fluttered away with the words _morning sex_. Why else would Sam be suggesting something like _that_. Sighing heavily, he rubbed along the back of his neck and tilted his head toward Sam. “Fuck,” he muttered then flushed slightly as his mind provided him with the perfect mental image of spreading Sam’s body out beneath his. “Well. Looks like we’ve got a case.” Dean _hated_ when hunts involved them, it was always complicated and if the dreams were anything to go on, it would just get worse. “Did we do something yesterday? Piss off anyone in particular?” Yeah, starting with facts would be better than dealing with the same dream thing.

The urge to resist the path they were heading down was entirely too strong for Sam to ignore. “Case? Nah, s’just a ... thing.”

“A thing?” Dean repeated incredulously, eyebrows lifting. “A random-ass dream that involved you and me playing house and- stuff. And it’s just a _thing_?” It felt a lot more than a thing in Dean’s mind, it was actually like some kind of sick joke, torturing him with what he could never have.

Sam frantically searched his mind for some kind of explanation that would make the entire situation go away. It used to be Sam who pushed to talk about things, get it out in the open; now he wasn’t so sure that was a great idea. “I - we spend too much time together. That’s all. _Fuck._ ” Slumping down on the chair he pressed his thumb and forefinger hard into his eyes. “Fuck.”

“So what? Some time apart will magically unsync our dreams?” Dean huffed and shook his head. “You wanna write this off to nothing? Fine by me. Let’s just go get some breakfast and figure out what to look into next.” It wasn’t like Dean wanted to sit around and lament what could never be.

“I dreamed you were _fucking_ me, alright? And we had a... We had a house and I was working. You wanted hamburger buns and lube.” Sam sucked in a breath when he finished blurting everything out and turned his face away slightly, not wanting Dean to see quite how much the dream had affected him.

“Was I good?” Dean asked before he could stop himself. It was somewhere close to a coping mechanism, he thought. Clearly, from the look Sam shot him, he was less than amused. “I had the same dream. Hamburger buns and lube. Making you a fucking egg burrito and coffee, as if I ever would make your lazy ass breakfast.” He scoffed and ignored the nagging part of him that suggested he wouldn’t so much mind. “What the fuck does that mean, then?”

Sam dragged a hand down his face and stared out the window. “We’re both crazy?” Sam couldn’t think of a damn thing that would make _shared_ dreams happen, not dreams like that one. “We. Yesterday did we eat or drink anything the same?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean dropped down onto the edge of his bed and shook his head. “Both drinking the same Coke isn’t gonna give us the same dream, Sam. Let’s just go to breakfast. Unless you’ve lost your appetite after having dreamed about me fucking you.” Dean shook off the flinch at that. If he sounded at all bitter then, well, he didn’t really mean to. Only he’d made his move once and that had been pretty quickly stifled.

“You know this isn’t any easier on me so don’t give so much of an attitude.” Sam pushed up so quickly from the chair that it hit the wall. If the thought of Dean fucking him made him lose his appetite things would be one _hell_ of a lot easier to deal with.

“Did you hear me complain about it?” Dean shot him a look and then shook his head, pushing up to his feet. “Food. We’ll figure it out after. One dream the same, it doesn’t mean anything, I’m sure.” He hoped he sounded a little more sure than he currently felt. Watching the clear agitation tensing Sam’s shoulders, Dean sighed and headed for the door. “Right?” he asked again, softer, looking over at his brother.

Sighing, Sam started over towards his brother. Dean usually figured stuff like this out. He had to be right, it was just some messed up...thing. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Right.” Dean nodded, wetting his lips nervously before tugging the door open and heading outside.

Despite the part of him that was convinced that this was nothing, Dean couldn’t help looking around to check out the environment, just in case. He noticed Sam doing the same even though they didn’t speak a word to each other as they headed for the diner, the air in the car tense and thick. Dean kept thinking about skin against his, about heat and pleasure and how _happy_ he’d been. It couldn’t even compare to some of his best dreams. And that was kind of freaky.

It wasn’t until after they had settled in the booth and ordered that Dean managed to break the silence. “This, it was just a dream, right? I mean, it’s not like it really happened. So, that’s something. You’re still- well.” He was tripping up between making a joke of this and worrying that it was serious.

Sam had been lifting a glass of water and froze with it halfway to his mouth. “I’m still, uh, what?”

“Well, nothing _happened_.” Dean gestured with his hand and brought the coffee up to sip from. “Fuck. Just forget it. Let’s just pretend it was a weird freak coincidence and move on.” It was not the usual Winchester way when it came to unusual things but it seemed good in this particular situation.

Leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice, Sam gaped at his brother for a few moments. “A coincidence? I was wearing tan pants and a blue shirt and you... you were happy in the morning. I don’t have - fuck - I’d never wear tan pants.” Hands lying open on the table Sam shrugged helplessly. “Any of that sound familiar?”

“So you have bad fashion sense in our fucking weird-ass shared dream, what does it matter?” Dean shrugged and drummed his fingers on the table. And really he wasn’t so much _happy_ as he was deliriously and ridiculously sentimental and in love. It left an odd aftertaste in Dean’s mouth, like the hint of his brother’s lips against his own. Coughing slightly, Dean rubbed viciously along the back of his neck once more and sighed. “Maybe we should just like, get separate rooms tonight or something.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it and sat back, hands dropping into his lap. They'd shared rooms for as far back as Sam could remember. He wasn't actually sure he could sleep without the sound of Dean's breathing and soft snores in the room. Brows furrowing, Sam looked down at his knife and fork and lifted a hand to flick at the napkin. "Okay, if that's what you- yeah. Sure."

“What? You’re the one who said we’re spending too much time together.” Dean huffed slightly and slapped his hand down on the table. It made the waitress jump as she approached with their food, eyes widening. “Sorry.” He smiled apologetically at her and looked away while she sat down the plates.

Staring at the egg burrito there, Dean suddenly had the feeling it was a bad choice to have ordered that. “Do you _not_ want to do the separate rooms thing?” he asked to distract himself from the slightly awkward feeling the thought of food left in him.

Pushing at the pancakes on his plate with his fork, Sam glanced up quickly then back down. “Whatever you think is best.” There was no way he was going to admit that he slept better four feet away from his brother than anywhere else.

“Fine,” Dean muttered and took a large bite from his burrito, deciding instantly that the shell was too stale for it to be really good. The one he’d made in his dream was so much better. Eyes lifting to his brother, Dean pursed his lips, head tilting to the side. “Were you happy?”

Sam dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate. He stared down at it for a few moments, and then reached up to rub his temple. "Yeah," he said softly, "I think I was." His heart felt like something was squeezing the damned life out of it. "But it was just a dream so-" He shrugged like the rest of that sentence didn't matter when it probably mattered more than most.  
“So.” Dean nodded and looked out the window. “Never would happen. I get it.” He shrugged and forced himself to take a few more bites of the burrito. “We should find a hunt - you said there was something around here, right?” Anything to distract himself from the fact that it kind of sounded like Sam was happy in the dream but it didn’t carry over to the waking world.

Sam studied his brother's face. He saw it there again just for an instant, the hurt that Sam had put on his brother's face the night he'd said no. Clearing his throat, Sam looked across the room and curled his fingers hard into his thigh. "Yeah."

“Anything promising with that?” Dean asked flatly, pushing away the last of the thoughts pertaining to anything he was trying to ignore. He thought he could hear something buzzing in the background of his mind but he shook his head, getting rid of it, he thought.

Sam tilted his head and frowned then looked around. “Dean?” It was the sound from his dream. He was sure of it. Turning his head, he couldn’t pin-point a direction, just that it was getting louder. Curling his fingers over the edge of the table, his wide eyes met Dean’s.

“Ah fu-” Dean inhaled sharply, the noise growing louder. Everything in his vision blurred and he had just a second to stare at his brother before everything was blacking out.

The ground was solid and hard beneath him, Dean’s shin was burning and it took him a moment to register the weight of his brother on him. Pushing up, Dean fumbled for a moment and pulled Sam to him, hand smoothing along his face. “Sammy?” he asked in a rush, heart racing hard in his chest. “Sam, come on. Wake up.”

Sam’s eyes didn’t want to open at first and he just turned his face into Dean’s touch. “Dean? God I had the weirdest dream,” he murmured. But he was uncomfortable and he shifted, opening his eyes. It took a few moments for things to fall into place in his mind. The kitchen, _their_ kitchen. “Dean?”

There was an ache in Dean’s heart and it scared him. Because whatever had just happened felt so very _real_ and it was his Sam in the other bed, across the room, not touching, not looking. It made bile churn up in Dean’s throat and he slid a hand through Sam’s hair. “ _God_ that was awful. You just- and we weren’t- was that real? It wasn’t real, right?” He couldn’t go back to that place, couldn’t spend too much time thinking about _before_ and what that meant for them.

Struggling to sit up Sam rubbed at his eyes. “I...” He realized too late that he didn’t have an answer. He had no idea what had happened except that now he was sitting in a puddle of hot coffee and Dean looked like he was going to lose it any second.

“Hey,” Sam smiled softly and slid his hand up his brother’s arm. “We’re okay, I’m okay, are you? Are you okay?” His hands moved over Dean’s arms, down his chest and it reminded him of when he was a kid and Dean would come back from a hunt; Sam would always want to touch every part of Dean, make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Burnt my shin.” Dean glanced down and shrugged. “The coffee. But, I’m just. We’re okay,” he repeated, clinging to that. His arms wrapped around Sam, pulling him across to his lap. “ _God_ , that was too much. It wasn’t real, right? We didn’t even touch.” Dean shuddered slightly and slid his hand down Sam’s back, over his crisp shirt.

Sam's eyes widened at Dean's words, trying to understand if they'd had some sort of shared delusion or hallucination. Cupping his brother's cheek, Sam stared into his eyes for a few moments, startled by the fear that he saw there. All those years of hunting and Sam had never seem Dean look as frightened as he did at that moment. "Did we pass out or something? Have a ... fit?" Sam glanced around. "Carbon Monoxide? Should we call someone?"

“Carbon monoxide?” Dean breathed and blinked his eyes a few times. “That’s, yeah. It could be that. We should get out of the house. We should-” Dean bit down on his lip, head tilting to the side then sighing. “What did you see, Sam? What, I mean. Was it you and me? Not here? Were we hunting somewhere?” He couldn’t make sense of all this, couldn’t figure out what the hell had just happened to them.

Nodding slowly, Sam cringed. "But I'm sure it was some sort of memory of something, or ... or I don't know. Like, sometimes people who are really connected can sorta finish each other's sentences. Right? We hunted for a long time, it was a diner and we ate in a thousand diners."

“But we were this age. And, we were talking about-” As the memories trickled through, Dean’s eyes widened, heart picking up speed once more. “It was, like we were trying to, like we’d dreamed _this_? Fuck, this is too much for my mind. We gotta-” It occurred to Dean that they were still on the kitchen floor, Dean was still in boxers and Sam was supposed to be going to work. _This_ was normal, that other thing had just been some bizarre moment of insanity or something. “Just, maybe a memory. Yeah.”

The hollow feeling inside Sam's chest wasn't going away and he shifted a little closer to Dean unconsciously. The morning was crystal clear in his mind - he could still feel the dull ache of Dean's bite on his back, the slight burn ... "Fuck," he whispered.

Dean's face was confused, pale, and Sam pressed his lips to his brother's forehead. "I think, I wanna stay home. I ... maybe hit my head when I fell and-. Yeah, I should stay here." Honestly, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his brother when he looked so scared. It was as though the threat of hunting, being so cut off from one another, going _back_ to that was still hovering there around them.

“Yeah. Me too.” Dean nodded shakily and slowly pushed himself up, helping Sam to his feet. He looked around uncertainly and brushed off Sam’s shirt, anything to check him over, make sure he was okay. “Sorry, I just- _god_ Sam, the way, the way I felt. Whatever it was. I mean, I could feel this ache.” It was stranger than Dean was able to form words for, like he could feel his old self - back when he was pining something wicked for his brother and too bitter to take that step - trying to clash with his new self. Where Sam was his, always.

“Hey, don’t apologize.” Sam’s brow furrowed and he blew out a shaky breath. “I know exactly what you mean, it was crazy like ... like the last five years-” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, then leaned hard against Dean’s chest so he could breathe in his familiar scent. There was _no_ way they could end up like that again. Too much had happened and the way he felt now, well, he couldn’t _ever_ turn his back on that.

“I know,” Dean whispered and pulled Sam close, wrapping arms tight around him. “It wasn’t real though.” He was clinging to that knowledge because it couldn’t have been real. He loved Sam with all his being, with everything he had, and that wasn’t going to change. “Sammy, I love you,” he breathed, because if there was ever a moment to say it, it was now.

Feeling his brother trembling in his arms was about the most unsettling thing that Sam had ever experienced. Pulling back slightly, he pressed gentle kisses along Dean’s cheek, the end of his nose, the corner of his mouth, and then looked into his brother’s eyes. “I love you, too. This is real, we’re fine. I have a headache,” Sam laughed softly, “but we’re fine.”

“Right.” Dean nodded and forced a smile onto his lips before stepping back, looking around for a clean towel. “Gonna clean this up. I could, make you some more food. Some food. You should probably call the office now, before they get worried. Miss their muffins.” He rubbed along his arm and headed for the fridge, torn between what to do first. Anything to shake the way his heart was still aching. He’d never felt more like two different people.

Sam nodded and slipped around the corner to retrieve his phone. He wasn't worried about calling in; he hardly ever took a sick day and his boss might actually be pleased that Sam was away from the office for once. His attention was only half on the call as he tried to figure out what the hell they'd just experienced. Sam knew there were cases of mass delusions but - seeing an entirely different life and having it feel _so_ real – that wasn’t normal. Flipping his phone shut he headed back into the kitchen quickly, not wanting to be too far away from his brother for very long. "S'all good, I'm staying here. Can you? Or ... maybe I could come to the shop with you if you need to go in?"

“Yeah it’ll be fine. Not going in. We should, figure this out.” Dean shrugged and stood up from the place on the floor where he’d been cleaning up the spilled coffee. “Sam.” Dean sighed and tossed the rag into the sink, arms sliding across his chest. “I can remember that other place. And we were trying to figure out how we both could have had the same dream. And now it’s the same thing. It’s like, we were here, then we were there, now we’re here. Something’s happening, isn’t it?”

Opening his mouth to protest Sam closed his eyes and laughed wryly. “I was in there, on the phone and all I was doing was trying to figure out what could have happened...and I can’t.” Blinking his eyes open he gazed across the room at Dean.

“There’s something crazy going on. I remember all of it and I’m standing here trying not to say the same things I was just saying to you in-” Sam’s words failed him but he could tell by the look on Dean’s face that he knew exactly what Sam meant.

“What I don’t get...” Dean sighed, met his brother’s eyes and laughed softly. “Okay, besides fucking _all_ of it, I don’t get, how we’re the same age. Like, like that’s us, in some alternate universe. But, that can’t be right? I mean, if it were then...” Dean shook his head. Five years of not hunting, they hadn’t done a single thing related to ghosts or whatever crap and now this, out of nowhere. “I don’t even know where to start with this. We don’t even have any books or anything anymore.”

“Okay, you know what? We’re not doing that.” Sam shook his head and then pushed his bangs back out of his eyes. He wasn’t going to watch Dean torment himself over some kind of trick of their minds or something.

“It’s done, Dean. We’re just gonna have a..a.. a day together. We’ll lay on the couch and watch an old movie. Zombies or some shit. It’s done.” Sam’s voice didn’t sound quite as firm as he’d like but he moved quickly across the kitchen to cover up his nerves. “How about I make us some cereal and yogurt or something?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Dean nodded, caving much easier than he might have. If this were different, if he was the guy that was in that too-real dream. But he _wasn’t_ that guy. He was _this_ Dean, who had a life and a lover and a lot of other fucking great things. And no ache in his chest.

As if spurred on by the thought, Dean crossed the kitchen swiftly and pulled his brother close, kissing him deeply. Maybe he needed the reassurance, just knowing that this was okay, that they were still _them_. “We’re okay,” he murmured into the kiss, hands fluttering over Sam’s clothes. “And you do too wear tan pants.”

Even though hearing words right out of the _dream_ or whatever the hell it was made Sam’s heart skip a couple of beats, he just leaned closer. “I do but right now I think I’m going back to the bedroom to take them off again. Come back to bed for a while?”

“Good idea.” Dean said softly and let Sam lead him back down the hallway to their bedroom. He watched as Sam slid out of his clothes, rolling his lip under his teeth. “In that world you didn’t want me,” Dean whispered, frowning slightly and then shrugging, as if that could dismiss it as nothing of consequence.

This time Sam was able to smile a real smile. Slipping under the covers he pulled Dean’s side back for him. “Yes I did.”

“But, we didn’t even touch. And you were all, I don’t know, upset about remembering that I fucked you, in the dream. _God_ , my brain.” Dean laughed quietly and slid to Sam’s side, pulling him in close.

Sam's lips moved softly against his brother's throat. "All I know is, in the dream I did. I did want you, I just was scared or something. Didn't wanna say it out loud, stopped us for some reason. But..." Sam mouthed his way up Dean's windpipe and nipped at his chin. "I'd never say _no_ now. Never."

“I know. You’re mine now.” Dean was sure about that, the one thing he could hold on to in this moment. Head tilting back, he moaned softly and curved his fingers along the back of Sam’s head. “It wasn’t real,” he whispered, still trying to convince himself. Sam’s lips on his skin was definitely helping. How could this not be real?

“Wasn’t real,” Sam murmured. As though he could convince Dean by touch, Sam let his fingers drift slowly down his brother’s body, bumping over curves of still-firm muscle, dipping into the dip of his belly. There was _no_ way that he would let Dean think for a _moment_ that he didn’t want him. Dean had spent most of his life taking care of Sam, loving him quietly and Sam wasn’t going to pay that back by letting Dean be insecure for a single moment.

Some part of Dean felt like it had been days since he was last with Sam, not hours. He couldn’t explain it. “Sammy,” he breathed and arched his body up into the touch. It almost felt like he’d missed it, missed Sam’s hands on him. “God you drive me crazy,” he chuckled through a soft exhale, the last ebbs of insecurity easing off his shoulders.

“Good,” Sam mumbled against Dean’s hip. “You drove me crazy for years.” Laughing softly, Sam shifted his body over Dean’s leg and settled between his thighs. Kissing his way back up his brother’s body, he let himself press Dean down against the bed, all his weight, safe and secure. “Got you,” he murmured through a smile.

Laughing softly, Dean ran his hands down Sam’s back, mapping out the curves of muscles. “And? What are you gonna do with me now that you’ve got me?” He squirmed slightly under Sam, like he might try and flip him over at any given moment.

“Might have to make you mine all over again,” Sam grinned. Ducking his head down, he sucked hard on his brother’s neck, _just_ under Dean’s jaw where it was so sensitive it was almost ticklish. The feel of Dean’s hips twitching slightly sent a thrill through Sam’s body. _No way_ he would ever stop touching his brother.

“Always yours. Always was,” Dean managed through a gasp, head rolling down against the pillow. He could feel heat building up in him, the boxers too tight and confining now. “Jesus Sam, feel how much I want you. Touch me.” He rolled his hips up as much as he could, desperate for Sam’s hand to be on him.

All the breath shuddered out of Sam’s lungs and he reached down to slide his hand over his brother’s cock. The heat of it was burning through the soft cotton and Sam shivered with want. His lips hovered _just_ over Dean’s, not touching, their breath hot and moist on each other’s lips.

Curling his fingers around the thick line under Dean’s boxers, Sam stroked gently. Drawing his hand up he dipped his thumb just under the waist band and then pulled it away.

“Tease,” Dean grunted, jerking slightly up into the touch. Truthfully, he loved this about Sam, loved being teased and worked over by his brother until he was nearly begging for it. He never admitted that though. Not out loud at least. “Wanna suck me? Love your lips on me.” Dean pushed forward, trying to capture Sam’s lips in a kiss and chuckling when he swayed away. “Sammy.”

Humming softly, Sam kissed down his brother’s neck and caught a tan nipple between his teeth. Pulling back, he rolled it between his teeth until he heard the telltale grunt of pain from his brother. Smiling, he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud, and then kissed it gently before moving across to work on the other one.

Dean’s hand fluttered up through Sam’s hair, sliding down his back, body curving up into the touch. It was fiery hot with just the slightest pain and it had Dean writhing on the bed for more. He moaned his brother’s name, closing his eyes and relaxing into the sensations. “Always so good,” he murmured.

Sam’s tongue trailed down the center of his brother body, dipping into his belly button, and then continued to move lower. He rubbed the tip of his nose along the dip just before Dean’s hip bone, worshiping the smooth, pale skin. Blowing softly across the flesh, he waited until Dean’s hips rolled up off the bed slightly then crushed his mouth down to suck hard at the sensitive skin.

A groan curled up in Dean and his spine bent once more, sending him up off the bed and into the heat of Sam’s mouth. _Never enough._ His hand was back in Sam’s hair again, slipping through the locks. There was the faintest noise, starting somewhere in the back of his mind and Dean’s eyes fluttered open. He thought he knew it, and then it hit him as the buzzing grew louder. “Shit, no. This- no.” He squeezed his eyes shut around the blurring of his vision, telling himself it was all his imagination.

Sam’s blood ran cold at the sound, mouth pulling away from Dean’s body. “Dean? Are you oka- fuck,” he hissed.

“I can’t. Not- not again.” Dean gasped and fumbled out for Sam, pulling him close as if it could tether him to this world. But it couldn’t, and it hardly took a minute before everything was blacking out again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean opened his eyes it was only because a hand was shaking his shoulder. Right in front of his nose was a plate that included a half eaten egg burrito. The hash browns were still steaming slightly and Dean lifted his head, confused, blinking up at the waitress who was pursing her lips in disapproval. “Sorry,” he mumbled then turned his gaze quickly to Sam. Sam who was fully clothed and not just about to go down on him. _Shit_ , what the hell was going on?

“Sammy?” Dean reached out to nudge his brother, ignoring the slight bite of panic inspired by the entire situation.

Sam’s head jolted up, eyes darting quickly around him. No bedroom, no Dean’s body spread out under him - the diner. Breakfast. _Fuck_. “Dean, I. Did it happen again? Were we...” His eyes widened and maybe it was a little bit in panic.

“I gotta-” Dean pulled in a quick breath, suddenly very, very aware of the arousal pressing up against his jeans. He could feel Sam’s lips on him like it was really just moments ago that they’d been in that bed pressing together. “Shit. What the hell is going on?” They had to leave the diner, they had to get back to the motel room and just pray that whatever was flashing them between two worlds didn’t do it while they were driving. “Are you okay?” he asked Sam belatedly, realizing it was a stupid question but going with it anyway.

“Okay?” Sam’s expression _had_ to be as close to incredulous as was possible. Leaning across he hissed, “No, I’m not fuckin’ okay. I’m freaked out. What the _fuck_ is going on? I was just about to...and...now I’m. Not.” Sitting back, he found himself panting softly and tried to relax. Getting his shorts in a knot really wasn’t going to help anything. Shifting his hips, he tried to relieve the pressure across the front. _God_ damn everything to hell.

“Don’t snap at me, it’s not like _I’m_ doing this,” Dean hissed back and dropped heavily in a slump in the seat. He felt a little like the two hims were getting mixed up. Some part of him was hissing at talking to Sam like that, wanted him to reach out and comfort and make everything better. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We need to not be here if this happens again.” He had no idea where to even _begin_ researching something like this.

Sliding out of the booth without hesitation, Sam strode toward the door. His brother was right. They needed to be somewhere safe, somewhere that someone else wouldn’t see them blacking out or whatever the hell it was they kept doing. Holding the door open for his brother, Sam pressed his hand to the small of Dean’s back. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m just really freaked.”

The touch surprised Dean - though he had no idea he could even be surprised at that moment - and he turned slightly to Sam, stepping forward so he could let the door fall closed. Reaching out, his hand settled far too naturally on his brother’s hip and he sighed. “Me too. More than freaked. We gotta figure this out.” He’d been a hunter long enough to pull himself from the moment, to try and rationalize it as much as he could from something so freaking insane. It didn’t exactly comfort him to know that.

Nodding, Sam looked down, lips pressed together. “Okay, yeah. We’ll figure this out.” Dropping his hand back to his side, he headed over to the car and waited for Dean to unlock his door.

Sam’s mind was whirling with possibilities. _Now_ seemed real. It was real. It had to _be_ real because seriously, who would dream the shit they lived through? But - moments ago he was sure he would have said the same thing about his lips moving on Dean’s hip. Heat prickled across his cheeks as he thought of the gentle touches and the musky smell of Dean’s body. _Jesus_.

It was a silent ride back to the motel. Dean was pretty sure Sam was just as caught up in all the thoughts as he was. A major _what the fuck_ moment in the making. When they were finally inside - the safest place they could be at the moment - Dean locked the door and turned to Sam, kicking out of his boots. “You said you wanted me.” It was somewhere way down on the list of important things at the moment, but it sparked up in Dean and he jumped on it.

“What?” Sam was halfway out of shrugging his jacket off and froze. He turned to the bed to avoid looking at his brother. He had said that - the other him, him, _Jesus Christ_. Sam needed a road map.

“Back there, in that-” Dean gestured like the other world where there was a fucking other set of _them_ was just outside the door. “I said, you didn’t want me there. Here. Whatever. And you said you did.” He tugged his jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair, fiddling with the edges to keep from looking at Sam.

Sam had a couple of choices. He didn’t like either of them very much. He could admit that he _felt_ things, drag it all kicking and screaming back out into the open or he could lie.

“Dean? Have I ever lied to you?” Sam turned, knowing there was fear etched onto his face.

“No.” Dean said quietly and slowly shook his head. He took a couple steps toward Sam, unsure if it was him or the other him guiding him forward. Dean took a moment to remind himself that he wasn’t _that_ guy. He was this one, this was real. Definitely. He thought. “I don’t think you’d lie to me there, either. We were, are, uh, obviously... much more.”

“I. I can’t talk about this now. It’s not. Dean, I didn’t ever say that to you. I never said I didn’t want you.” Sam could feel his cheeks flushing with warmth and his fingers rose to rub at the side of his neck. “I just said... we shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Can’t. Whatever.”

“Well obviously we did at some point.” Dean grunted and dropped down hard on the foot of his bed. “Is that what that is? Some, alternate universe were we decided, ‘fuck hunting, let’s fuck each other instead?’” He really shouldn’t have said that - the mental images it pulled up were really _far_ too vivid.

“Yeah ‘cause that’s the only two choices we have. _Fuck_ , Dean.” Sam threw his jacket at the chair and sighed when it fell on the floor. “You said it was a dream or something. What about a spell? When? How long do you think since... _they_ hunted.” It was remarkably weird talking about themselves in the third person.

“Five years.” Dean answered, a bit disconcerted by how easy it was to know that. “I mean, I’m pretty sure. It seemed like I thought that, or, something. The other me. _Jesus Christ_ this is fucked up.” Dean thought about what could possibly have done this; they hadn’t encountered any sort of witch in a long time, so that was out of the question. Hell, they weren’t even on an official hunt at the moment.

“Cases five years ago... what the hell were we doing? Or is it this damn idol we’re looking for?” Sam moved over to his laptop and flipped it open. After a few moments Sam pulled up a website and motioned for Dean to come and look. “Tykhe, the Greek Goddess of chance. You and I never even had a chance to talk about it. Here.”

Sam had pulled up a website with Tykhe, Fortuna. She had reminded Sam of Athena, looked a little like a warrior woman. “I read a few things on line that had me wondering about this thing. It’s in a small-scale museum here and there have been some odd things happening in town lately. Just really weird turns of luck, strange... I dunno.” Sam shoved the laptop toward his brother. “Take a look.”

Dean pushed off the bed and came over to Sam, ducking down to peer at the screen. It was pretty damn distracting being that close to Sam, he really couldn’t think about it right now. His hand settled on his brother’s back anyway. “Yeah. I think I remember that. It was, oh.” It was all coming back to Dean. The case and the idol and that stupid, stupid night when he’d kiss Sam and been pushed away. “That was uh, that one night. Do you think, I mean, how does it work?” And why the hell was it happening now of all times?

“This is the same? God, Dean, I don’t know. I just thought this idol might be having some effect on ... something... fortune, luck. I know it’s all a bit mystical-sounding at this point but we’ve checked out worse, right?” Sam turned and found himself only inches from his brother’s face. He dropped his gaze quickly but didn’t move away.

“Hell if I know. You think it’s worth checking out? Then we’ll check it out.” At this point Dean would latch onto anything that offered up some hope for their situation. “You think it’s here somewhere? The statue thing? I mean, we’re close to it or something?” How the hell a statue could be affecting a complete melt down of apparently alternate universes was beyond him but they’d seen crazier things.

“I have no idea, but sitting here we’re not gonna figure anything out, are we? Just... we should stay together, and Dean?” Sam’s fingers reached out and curled over his brother’s wrist.

“I know, be safe, watch my back, whatever.” Dean doesn’t move out of Sam’s grip, it’s kind of grounding at the moment which he could really use. Sam just keeps looking at him and Dean’s lips purse. He’s still bent over, too close, and in the other world they’d be kissing by now. Which is a surreal and not altogether unpleasant thought. “Was there more?”

“I just wanted to make sure you believed me. About. About the other thing.” Sam’s lashes felt too heavy, his tongue too thick and it felt like the world was slowing down around him. Maybe he had told Dean _no_ , pushed his brother away but he’d never meant for Dean to think that meant Sam didn’t _feel_ the pull.

“The not lying thing?” Dean asked softly though he _knew_ that wasn’t really the issue here. If he didn’t trust Sam, then he wouldn’t rely on him to watch his back when he inevitably found trouble. He stared at Sam until he looked up again and swallowed thickly. “I believe you.” This was definitely another moment in which kissing would be involved if they were elsewhere.

Instead, Dean straightened up and tried to resist touching Sam’s hair. “It’s longer there, in the other place.” He noted quietly and dipped his head down. “Your hair. Not by much but, longer still.”

“You’re happier there.” Sam didn’t mean it to sound quite as sad as it did but it was really hard to see the way Dean looked so worn here in comparison to in the _other_ place. The dream, he guess, was just that. _A dream._

“Well. I have more there.” Dean exhaled slowly, shaking his head with the breath. “In a different way. Come on, let’s figure this shit out so we don’t have to deal with it anymore.” The easiest solution, figure out the problem and ignore it. The Winchester way. “So this museum is close? Fuck, you don’t think it’ll happen while we’re driving, do you?”

“It’s close enough, we’ll walk.” Sam wasn’t done talking about the differences in these two places. Now that he’d seen Dean happy it was hard to ignore how _un_ happy he seemed here with Sam. “We can talk on the way.”

“Joy,” Dean muttered flatly, slipping back into his boots, tugging his coat back on. He should have known better than to take them off anyway. “Tan pants,” he mumbled and chuckled softly at that. It seemed a safe subject to address and well, it was kind of amusing to see his brother so comfortable in business-casual.

Even though he tried to resist it Sam smiled slightly. “Yeah, well, you’re some kind of Domestic Diva. Cookin’, organizing BBQ’s. Maybe it really is a dream and our minds are making shit up to torment each other.” Sam pulled the door open and headed out into the afternoon sun.

Dean laughed at that, pausing to lock the door before following Sam. “I bet I cook a mean burger on the grill. And, I fix classic cars. You work as a legal aid which is so _you_. Bet you picked out the matching kitchen towels, too.” If they could joke about it then it would make everything easier, and Dean wouldn’t have to focus on the way he wanted to be as close to Sam as possible.

Trailing along behind his brother Sam laughed softly. “So. Can I ask you a question?”

“It’s not really a matter of _can_. You’ll ask it anyway,” Dean pointed out, pausing at the end of the parking lot so Sam could direct them towards the museum.

Heading down the street marked _Winston_ , Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. “Why did it matter so much? That I ... the other me, said I wanted you?”

Dean walked a good half block in silence, trying to figure out the best way to answer the question without ruffling feathers. When he reached the conclusion that he couldn’t, he sighed and spoke softly. “Because. The other me, he could feel how I feel now and he didn’t like it. So, the other you was making it better.”

“So, you’re not happy with the way things are? You said, well, we agreed. No we didn’t, we didn’t talk because we never talk about anything. I thought you understood.” Sam stuffed his hands in his front pockets, fingers curling into fists.

“I understood. I kis- I did, that. And you pushed me away. That was clear enough for me.” Dean shrugged and stared out at the street as they walked. Five years since then, _why_ did it all have to be coming up now? They were doing just fine without the sudden constant reminder. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? I get it. Trust me, I do. So we do whatever, make that other thing stop, and go back to what it is.” Which was nothing, and Dean thought he could handle that. Even with the slightly unwanted mental images all fresh and new in his mind.

Sam’s heart felt like it was being crushed inside a fist and he pulled his hands out of his pockets to shake them out like, somehow, that would make it feel better. “Okay, I just-” he cleared his throat and looked up. “It’s up there.”

The museum was a small building, all brick with windows that didn’t have the usual bars. Sam was willing to bet there was no burglar alarm either. “Back door?”

“Seems likely.” Dean nodded, already pulling the small kit from his pocket as they rounded the building. He knelt and barely had to jimmy the lock before it was opening. Dean pushed the door open and held his breath for a moment before rising, deciding no one was coming and no alarm was going to sound.

He hesitated at the door, looking over his shoulder at his brother. “Do we need to talk about it?” he asked quietly, hand splayed out on the hard wooden surface.

“Talk about what?” Sam lowered his voice, peering past his brother into the quiet building.

“That. The, what I did.” Dean couldn’t even bring himself to say the word _kiss_ and that was a sure sign that any talk about it was going to be hell. “Fuck. Nevermind.” He grunted and shook his head, pushing the door the rest of the way open and stepping inside. “Any idea where it might be?”

“The article just said it was on display. Small town, can’t be that much.” Sam closed the door quietly behind them. The air smelled musty, like old newspaper and he wrinkled his nose. Tilting his head slightly he listened, a slight humming was building. “Dean, do you hear that?”

“Ah _shit_.” Dean shook his head slightly as the noise intensified. He knew what it was, lost count of how many times he’d heard it. Everything was blurring in his vision but he grabbed his brother’s arm, tugging him into the dark shadows, slumping against the wall. “It’s gonna, again. C’mon.” The last thing they needed was to fall and break something when the darkness set in, so he let himself sink to the floor, dragging Sam with him.

Sliding down, Sam fell hard against Dean’s side. “The image, the idol. Find it.”

When Dean opened his eyes he felt momentarily dizzy. It took him a few seconds to place the room, _their_ room, and Sam’s body pressed up against his. He was still warm, still fucking turned on for Christ’s sake, and maybe only a minute had passed but it felt like a lot more than that. “Sammy?” He groaned softly, nudging at his brother to wake him from the dream, or whatever.

Sam moaned loudly and crawled up his brother’s body before even opening his eyes. Collapsing back against Dean’s side he pressed a kiss to the man’s chest. “I don’t wanna go back there anymore.”

“Me either,” Dean breathed and wrapped his arm tight around Sam. It was too much, trying to untangle the emotions from there and here. _Here_ which was real and theirs and definitely not a dream. “We gotta make this stop. We need, the. The image? Don’t we...” Something was nagging in his mind as the other world caught up with itself in his mind, details sorting out.

Pushing up onto his elbows Sam’s hand pressed against Dean’s chest. It was happening too fast, the switching back and forth. Things were bleeding together too much and his mind was all tied in knots. “The... Tykhe...” He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back down on his brother’s chest. “Just gimme a minute.”

What Sam wasn’t going to say out loud was that it felt like the life was being drained out of him. Going back to being that guy who was trying to ignore the fact that there was an ache inside him, a question. The answer had been right in front of him all the time and he’d just had to reach out for it. “It’s this... us. We’re real, right?”

“We’re real,” Dean said softly, hoping he sounded a little more convinced than he felt. “We have to be. How could this not be real?” His fingers slid through Sam’s hair and he tried to imagine being in a world where he wasn’t allowed to do that. It made his heart clench tightly and he wet his lips. “This has to be real. I don’t want to not have you. I _need_ you.” It sounded desperate and slightly scary to his ears but it was the truth.

Sam sighed, deep and long then sat up. “Okay. Okay. We can. We can figure this out. It hasn’t been that long since we last hunted, right?” Rolling to the edge of the bed Sam stood and leaned down to snatch his jeans up off the floor. Pulling them on he reached out his hand for Dean. “We have to find... the idol, an image...something.”

“An image of the idol?” Dean repeated slowly. He didn’t want to get out of bed, he just wanted to go back to sleep for the night - _without_ dreams - and wake up in their happy little world.

It took him a moment to realize he’d been hesitating to take Sam’s hand. Dean looked up at his brother before sliding their hands together, letting his fingers slip through Sam’s. “I don’t like how I feel there. I don’t like that world.” He stood slowly and pressed against Sam’s side, dipping down to kiss his shoulder.

“This is right,” Sam said. His lips were against Dean’s hair. “We can figure this out. It’s what we trained our whole lives for, right?” His arm circled Dean’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “Some things are just meant to be, right?” Sam smiled.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded and stayed for a moment in that warmth, letting it reassure him.

Around five years ago they’d been on a hunt, they’d found some things, the idol included. Then Dean had gotten a little tipsy, they’d been excited and laughing, watching bad movies on black and white TV on the same bed. And then Dean had kissed Sam. There’d been a moment of hesitation, Sam had pulled back and stared at him. Then they were kissing, rolling together on the bed, hands fumbling under clothes. Only... in that other world they hadn’t.

In this one though, they’d touched each other that first night. They’d gone on a handful of hunts afterward but it had never been the same. Not long after, they’d decided to settle down, get a place, create lives for themselves. And now something was sparking in Dean’s mind again and he looked up, pursing his lips for a moment. “We have it. The idol. It was with our things when we came here and we never threw it out.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he pulled back slightly. “Where? With the boxes in the garage?” When they’d moved into the house Dean had wanted to get rid of everything, put their old lives behind them completely. Sam, for some reason had been hesitant.

“Has to be. Never went through the stuff.” Dean turned and - somewhat reluctantly - pulled his hand free so he could slip on a pair of sweats. “Shit. I don’t want to go through all that crap.” Dean avoided it at all costs, pretending it wasn’t there, that they didn’t have such a rocky past.

“Bet you’re glad I didn’t let you burn it all now.” Sam couldn’t resist teasing his brother. He knew _why_ Dean wanted to get rid of everything, he wasn’t stupid. Dean had just wanted to go full steam ahead and commit himself to their future together.

“Not sure about that. Maybe this wouldn’t be happening if we had burned it,” Dean muttered and led the way out of the room and down the hall to the garage. He pulled open the door, glancing at their cars before forcing his eyes over to the small stack of boxes along the far wall. “What do we do if we find it? The other us, they never said.”

“Well, what do we do with cursed objects? We burn then, destroy them, um,” Sam racked his brain for all the counter-measures they had come up with over the years. “Return it to ...somewhere? I don’t know. First things first. We need to find the damn thing.” Sam tugged his brother down the hall and shoved the garage door open. “We gotta fix this mess,” he muttered.

The door had a habit of swelling in warmer weather and sticking in the frame. It was annoying and one of those things they kept saying they should take care of at some point. Even that made Sam smile. They had a honey-do list. This world was the _right_ world.

What was probably not so good was the fact that Dean was nearly shaking at the idea of going through those boxes. Of course it probably had more to do with the world switching, the way he felt here compared to how he felt there. “Should we take them in?” Part of him didn’t want to tarnish their home with their past like that. But the worlds were kind of melting together and it was inescapable at this point.

“Let’s just keep it all out here.” Sam headed over to the far side of the garage and started lifting boxes down. “God, there’s quite a bit of stuff.” He wasn’t looking forward to digging up old memories. Handing one box to Dean he took another for himself and flipped the top open. Of course, he had to find the one with their father’s journal.

Lifting the book he smoothed his hand over the cover and then sighed. This was really going to stuck. Setting the book down gently, he stuck his hands back in and pulled out some papers. “What exactly am I looking for? A statue?” He had the vaguest recollection of what Dean was talking about.

“I guess?” Dean shrugged, trying to remember what it had looked like back then. He could recall the image on the screen, back in the other world. “Some chick? Why the hell would we keep that?” he muttered under his breath as he tugged open the box and peered inside. It was all miscellaneous crap, nothing essential. Dean pulled out a pair of handcuffs and arched his eyebrows. “We got keys for these?”

Smirking Sam shook his head. “We’ve spent enough time in handcuffs. You wanna keep me still, tie me up.” Pulling out a cloth bundle, Sam unwrapped the Colt and raised an eyebrow at Dean. Shrugging, he wrapped it again and put it down.

“We’re revisiting the tie you up thing,” Dean pointed out and chose to ignore the colt while digging into the box once more. Random bullets, some knives, a Bible for exorcisms. He tugged out a small solider action figure and smiled softly at it, slipping it down into his sweats pocket. “Nothing in this one. Any luck?”

“Not so far.” Sam rifled through papers and books, then pulled out a framed picture of a clown. “Where the hell did we get this?” He didn’t wait for Dean’s answer; it was probably some sick joke his brother had planned a long time ago. Tossing it back into the box Sam folded the top closed and turned to grab another one. “Here,” he passed the box to his brother.

The next box Dean opened seemed like it was going to be just as non-useful as the first. There were things in there he couldn’t even name. Then his fingers brushed against stone and he tugged the statue out, scrunching his face up at it. “This?” He offered it to Sam, expecting some sort of buzz or something now that he had it in his hands.

“Looks like her.” Sam took the heavy weight of the idol. It was cool and felt almost too dense for the size of it. “Doesn’t seem big enough to cause all this, does it?” Sam glanced up at Dean and smiled weakly.

“They never usually are in our experience.” Dean shrugged and folded up the box again. His eyes drifted to their father’s journal. Sam had forgotten to put it back, and he reached out for it, fingers resting on the surface. “You miss it?” Dean asked quietly, lifting his eyes from the book to Sam. “Life on the road, helping people?”

“No.” That was the easiest answer Sam had ever given. “Nothing we ever did compares to what I have with you. _This_ life.”

Dean didn’t even have to stop to consider whether Sam was just humoring him. He knew it was truth, he knew it every single day when they woke up together without dreading what the world held for them. Stepping forward, Dean reached up to cup the back of Sam’s skull and pull him in, slanting their lips together. “Love you,” he breathed into the kiss, pressing against his brother’s body. “And me too. I don’t miss it.”

“I know you don’t,” Sam murmured. He’d seen the change in Dean over the years. He’d seen the light come back into his brother’s eyes and remembered the day he’d packed away the leather jacket like it was some kind of closure, shutting the door on their hunting days.

“We’re gonna figure this out, Dean. Let’s get on the Internet.” Sam shoved the box aside and headed toward the door.

“Research,” Dean grunted, trailing after Sam. Sure, Sam did lots of work online, legal aid stuff; the computer he had now had never been to a site relating to anything unnatural. “What if we’re not supposed to break it? What if we have to like, rub its belly.” Dean snorted at that, catching on the laugh, the noise rolling through him and growing at the absurdity. He felt a little like he was losing his mind, and the laughter was probably related to that.

“Well, I dunno, there must be some way, right? We burned the rabbit’s foot, and there are curse boxes that confine things.” Moving through the house quickly, Sam settled on the couch and gingerly stood the idol on the coffee table. Flipping the laptop open he waited for it to boot up. “What do you think?”

Dean slowly joined Sam on the couch and pressed against his side. Stopping himself from pushing any closer. “I think destroying it might not be a good thing. Who knows what will happen. Maybe we need to take it somewhere, it’s just. But.” Dean frowned and shook his head, sliding a few feet away from his brother on the couch. It was just too much to try and process everything. “If _we_ have the idol, then the other us, they have one, too. What if they have to join together or something?”

“And how the hell do we do that?” Sam stared at the idol for a few moments. “I think we should smash it and then set fire to it. Or look up some kind of ritual something or other to read over it.”

“But what if smashing it makes something happen? Something bad?” Dean stared at the idol and scowled. Sure the idea of crushing it to bits was mildly appealing but there were always consequences. “What if it changes the worlds? And then what, will the other us still be out there? Will we still be here? We should try and find something about it first.”

“Dean? Relax, you’re gonna pop a blood vessel or something.” Sam flopped back onto the couch and brought the laptop with him so he could slide it onto Dean’s lap. “Look it up.”

Letting himself fall into his brother’s side Sam slipped his hand over Dean’s thigh. “Look up the Greek Goddess of Fortune.”

“Why am I looking it up?” Dean asked quietly, wishing he had some way to get a hold of himself. He felt a little like he was falling apart and Sam was right, he was going to pop a blood vessel. Or just explode from two sets of conflicting emotions and thoughts reeling through him.

Pulling up the browser Dean typed in the words, eyes dropping to Sam’s hand on his thigh. His body shifted automatically, slouching back on the couch, legs spreading wider. “Don’t think they’ll just have random links on how to make it all better.”

Laughing Sam watched as Dean clicked through different websites. “How do you think this happened? Hell, _what_ do you think has happened. I know that mind of yours. Do you have a theory?” Sam’s fingers curled tighter over his brother’s thigh and he watched the man’s body relax. _Just_ the way he always did.

“Well, the other us are near the statue. And there’s two statues? Maybe that’s connected somehow. Maybe by the other us being close to the statue, and us being close to this one, it’s forcing our worlds together or something.” Dean slid the laptop to the side sightly, reaching out for Sam instead. “Sorry. I just can’t- it keeps hitting me you know? _God_ in that place, it’s like I’ve silently been aching for you for years, for so long. I can’t shake it.” His hands curled around Sam’s arms, pulling him half up onto his lap. “How did we ever let it get to that?”

Lifting his hand Sam smoothed his palm over Dean’s cheek and up over his hair. “I guess, well, it’s me. Was me. _God_ , this is messed up. It’s like ... okay. Remember when you kissed me?” Sam smiled, of course Dean remembered. “There were all these feelings inside me like, what if you kissed me and something went wrong and I lost you? What if you found someone else? What if you hated me or yourself afterwards? You know? I don’t know, there was just this look in your eyes in the end and I just _knew_ it would be okay.”

Pushing up slightly, Sam brushed his lips across his brother’s in a long, slow, sweep. “I can’t imagine things being any different now. That’s why it’s so hard when we see that. Feel it - or dream it or whatever the hell is happening.”

Hands fluttering along every inch of Sam’s body, Dean hummed quietly and pulled his brother in to him, deepening the kiss for a long moment. “I never would have done any of those things. I mean, clearly, since here we are and everything. I just, you’re the most important person to me.” Dean rolled his shoulders back in a hug and pulled Sam down into his lap, planting small kisses along his skin. “Can’t wait until it’s just us again, no other world. No other outcome.”

“Dean, there _is_ no other outcome. Stop it.” Sam’s voice was soft, fingers sliding up through his brother’s hair. It was longer now, softer, not all slicked up and military-style. Sam liked it - it took away the edge that Dean had seemed to have for most of their lives.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled and closed his eyes, relaxing under the familiar touch. Familiar and real. _No other outcome_. “Guess I get to watch you buy hamburger buns and lube from the store after all,” he said softly and slowly grinned, opening his eyes to meet Sam’s gaze. “If you still want to have the BBQ tonight.”

“‘Course I do, got no plans on being _anywhere_ else.” Sam let his weight settle on his brother’s body. “We need to figure out what to do about this statue thing. You think maybe you should email Bobby or something?” They still kept in touch with the crazy old hunter. He’d been gruff at first when they’d told him that they were going to quit hunting but Sam was pretty sure he could see some happiness in Bobby’s eyes.

“Hmm. Couldn’t hurt. Let’s take a picture of the thing and send it his way, see what would be best?” Dean slid a hand down Sam’s back, back up to Sam’s neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His lips parted for more, to deepen the action, and he let his free hand fall to Sam’s jeans, rubbing the heel of his palm along his brother’s fly. “God. This whole thing makes me crazy.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the world-shifting thing or Sam practically on his lap, or both.

Sam shivered a little, maybe it was the touch, maybe the deep tone of Dean’s voice. “And apparently...turns you on,” he murmured. He couldn’t help his leg sliding over his brother’s so he could straddle his hips to spread out against the firm body underneath him.

“Only because it makes me want you so much,” Dean almost growled, hand spreading out the length of Sam’s crotch and massaging softly. He felt Sam’s heat growing under his palm, filling out and pressing into his hand. “Feels like you’re pretty turned on,” Dean murmured, fingers dancing up to pull at the button, sliding it free. “We can email Bobby in a few.” He leaned forward, sliding his lips along Sam’s neck as he dragged the zipper down.

Sam’s lashes fell to his cheeks as his arms coiled around his brother’s neck. He knew what Dean was feeling. Switching back and forth - feeling all hyped up and tense, and then shifting back to their _real_ world was like the ultimate release. Well, as Sam’s hips circled gently against his brother’s body, he conceded that it was perhaps not the _ultimate_ release.

A soft sound left Sam’s lips as Dean’s mouth moved over his skin. He was hard, his dick pushing against the stiff material of his jeans. It was always like this - touching set off every nerve ending in his body and made him hard as rock in a handful of seconds.

He could feel the tension leaving Dean’s body and shifted his hips against his brother’s arousal. Even half-clothed and scared out of his mind Sam would rather be touching Dean’s body than any other place in the world. He couldn’t conceive of there being another world where that didn’t happen all the time. That idea was more frightening than anything else.

Growling softly, Sam pulled back enough to capture his brother’s mouth in a hard kiss. His lips slid rough and impatient against Dean’s, tongue pushing into his mouth quickly.

Sucking hard on Sam’s tongue, Dean slid his hand into his lover’s jeans, groaning at the feel of skin there. _God_ it was hot when Sam didn’t wear anything under his jeans. They’d been in and out of this situation so many times today he felt a little like he’d lived full lifetimes in a single day. “Ride me,” Dean grunted into the kiss, shoving at the jeans until he could pull Sam’s cock free, stroking slowly up the length of him.

It was a steady pulsing heat in Dean, the want for Sam, the intense thrumming of blood in his ears. He panted into the kiss, rolling his hips up for more friction, sweats straining around his arousal.

Sam’s blood was rushing through his veins with an urgency he knew was probably fueled by the uncertainly of everything going on around them. "Dean," he moaned. Tearing himself away from the heat of his brother's body, Sam rolled. Shoving at his jeans frantically he was finally able to kick out of them and turned his attention to his brother's sweats. Tugging them down over Dean's hips, Sam sucked in a shaky breath as the pale soft skin was revealed. As their bodies pressed together again, Sam's heart started pounding out the familiar rhythm of _want_ and he sank the tight ring of his lips down over his brother's stiff cock.

Groaning low in his throat, Dean arched up into Sam’s mouth, hand settling on the back of his head. “Fuck, Sammy,” he growled, curling his fingers into thick hair and arching his body up. “Get me all wet, want you to ride me.” The air was tight and quick in his lungs and Dean’s eyes were fluttering closed and opening again to stare down at his brother’s head moving over his lap. He needed Sam, more than he could even say out loud, but he knew Sam got it, they were always on the same page like that. Nails scraping down Sam’s back, Dean curved his fingers into his brother’s ass, squeezing the muscles tight under his grasp.

Sucking hard, Sam licked and kissed the searing flesh. Wet and slick, he moved his mouth up and down, lips tight and then soft, teasing and then rough. He _knew_ what his brother liked, _knew_ Dean's body like he knew nothing else in the world. When he'd finally worked enough spit onto Dean's cock he slid his body forward and dragged his teeth up his brother torso, stopping only once to bite hard on the protection tattoo over his heart.

“Jesus. You know just-” Dean’s voice caught on the words as Sam’s teeth grazed over his nipple. His hands fumbled up, gripping Sam by the arms and pulling him close. Every breath he pulled felt deep and vibrating, humming through him as Sam’s body slid across his lap once more. _This is real_. Sam’s skin was burning beneath his finger tips and Dean moaned louder when their cocks slid together, tilting his head up to drag Sam down and kiss him hard.

Sam's heart felt like it would fly right out of his chest if it beat any harder. Slipping back quickly, he reached for the heat of his brother's cock and held it tight so he could slide his ass down over it. Sinking back down against Dean's body, Sam rolled his lips together and hissed softly. "F-Feel that, still open. _Fuck._ " Ramming his hips down as hard as he could he felt every inch of his brother's dick drive into his body.

“ _God_ , Sam,” Dean’s hips snapped up, eyes fluttering closed as heat encased him from base to tip. His hands molded down the sharp slope of Sam’s back, tracing the bumps of his spine, guiding him down for the next hard thrust. Head dropping back onto the couch cushion, Dean stared up at his lover, his brother, memorizing the pleasure on his face he already knew. It took him a moment to realize that there was something else besides the rush of his pulse in his ears, a distant buzzing sound building up with each moment. Dean’s fingers tightened on Sam’s skin, shoulders tensing with awareness. “What’s-”

Sam moaned softly and slid back onto his brother's lap. His head was throbbing and so was his cock and somehow he was back in his jeans again and ready to - " _Jesus_ fucking _Christ_. He watched his brother's lashes flutter open; realizing he was sitting on Dean's lap and they were back in the museum.

This time it was a lot more difficult for Dean to pull himself from the other world. His hands were up and around Sam before he could move, dragging him in close. Their lips came within inches of each other before everything caught up in his mind and he stopped tugging Sam closer to him, stopped trying to figure out why he was painfully hard but not buried deep in his lover as he should have been. “Shit,” Dean exhaled slowly, staring up at Sam, letting him go in the next moment. “I was just- we were- _god_ this has to stop.” Dean was at serious risk of losing his god-damn mind if this kept happening.

Sam felt like he was frozen to the spot. His body was thrumming with heat and energy, blood zipping through his veins and he was so hard his balls ached. It was like being dragged back and forth between two complete opposites and he was pretty sure he was going insane. He lifted a trembling hand to Dean's neck and curled around his sweat-damp skin. "Dean, I can't keep doing this. It's-" Sam swallowed and shifted a little closer. _Like a moth to a flame._ Feeling Dean's sharp intake of breath, Sam shifted quickly and slid off his brother's body. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

Dean groaned and dropped hard back onto the floor. It felt like there was a vice tightening around his chest, too much for him to handle. The added frustration, of going from one place where he was so sure of Sam’s love, their devotion to each other, to this place where he couldn’t even _touch_ \- it just might end up killing him. Tears pricked sharp and bitter at the corners of Dean’s eyes and he rolled to his side, pushing up slowly off the ground. “We’re getting the fucking statue and smashing it. I don’t care what happens because of it, I just want it _over_.”

Sam turned his face toward his brother’s. “We don’t know what that will do. We haven’t even seen the damn thing yet. It might not even be what we think it is.” He knew his brother was frustrated but rushing in to something was _not_ going to be the answer.

“I don’t fucking care, Sam. I just need this to be over,” Dean grunted, pacing a few steps away, rubbing hard at the back of his neck. “You go that way, I’ll go the other and we’ll find the damned thing.” His shoulders felt tense, heart squeezing too hard, stomach churning in unpleasant flips.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft and he followed his brother unconsciously. “What if that’s the real one?” It was a question that he knew Dean would be asking himself, too. What if they destroyed something and were stuck in the wrong place?

Dean’s steps faltered and he pursed his lips, scratching slowly along his chest. “What if it is? At least we’ll both be happy and I’ll finally finish getting laid.” He shrugged it off, dismissing the subject. Or trying to. But the idea was prominent and constant in his mind. “If it’s real, how do we stop coming back to this place?”

“I don’t know, but, this is _big_ Dean. It’s bigger than use taking a wrong turn on a road trip. What if this is real and we end up stuck over there and something goes really fucking wrong?” Sam’s mind was running through possibilities. Both places seemed real while they were in them - _experiencing it_ \- and then everything seemed so crazy when they were back. “How do we know which one is right?”

“Do I look like I have an answer, Sam? Seriously?” Dean spun to him, eyes, wide, hands out at his sides. “Seriously, man. I’m just as fucking clueless as you. One second you’re madly in love with me and I’m _fucking_ you and the next we’re here where it’s cold and hollow and _painful_. So I’m sorry if I’m not exactly gung ho on the idea of waiting this out. Let’s just find the fucking thing, email Bobby or something and _stop_ it.” His eyes were pricking with tears again, his heart racing with the way his words sent heat rushing through him.

Sam's eyes widened slightly and he stepped back. That desperation on Dean's face was something Sam hated, he'd seen it before. Walking backwards slowly, Sam felt the burn of Dean's glassy eyes. "Stop acting like this is only bad for you. I know this is real and I _want_ the other place." Sam turned quickly and walked off down the hall. "Try living with that," he tossed over his shoulder.

“You’re the only reason we don’t have _that_ ,” Dean called after him, scowling for a moment before turning and pacing the opposite way. It wasn’t like he was the one holding them back. He hadn’t pushed Sam away, he couldn’t make the first move again because the last time he’d gotten the clear _no_. He couldn’t do that again, and he couldn’t keep switching places. If he found that damn statue he was going to smash it, screw the consequences.

“Oh fuck off,” Sam muttered. He didn’t care if Dean heard him. He could live with being the one who had stopped them from fucking up their lives. That other world might be some perfect-ass-life but it really wasn’t real. It couldn't be real. That would make everything that they’d gone through, all the shit, for nothing and Sam didn’t think he could live with that.

Striding down the hallway, he moved into the front display room of the museum. There were a lot of glass cases, shelves, even some dioramas of various scenes from the history of the town. But it was the very front case that caught Sam’s attention.

The label beside it was marked as an estate display. _Marvin Hunter_ had bequeathed his personal collection of artifacts to the museum one month prior and the display was still in progress. Sam pushed the glass door open and perused the items inside. There were small Buddhist bells, some prayer flags, a statue of Ghanesh, and then another one that looked familiar. A warrior type women, small and carved out of some kind of stone. Sam reached out for it - then stood back. “Dean! Come in here!”

“God damnit,” Dean grumbled and turned, heading back down the hallway and stopping a good five feet from his brother’s back. “Found it? Good. Let’s go.” He didn’t want to pass out again here. Hell, he didn’t want it to happen it at all because they were going to wake up with Dean still buried in Sam in the middle of fucking. _God_ , he actually felt kind of bad for the other _them’s_. “That’s it, right?”

"Dean, just slow down a minute. Should I even touch it? It looks slightly different than the one we found online." Sam leaned down and studied the statue. The woman was in a flowing robe and carrying some kind of spear or pole.

Sighing heavily, agitation crawling up in him, Dean paced forward and snatched up the statue. He held it up in front of Sam’s face, shrugging. “Look, no world’s exploding. Can we go now? I’d rather not go back to that place before we’re at least in the motel again.” He was being a dick, and he was well aware of it, but _seriously_. By the end of this it would be a miracle if he could even look at Sam again.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you? This is _not_ how we work a case. You need to chill the _fuck_ out." Sam's shoulders squared, jaw twitching as he stared his brother down. He knew this was hard on both of them but he'd be damned if he was going to let Dean take it out on him.

“I just want it done.” Dean clenched his jaw and curled his fingers around the statue. “Nothing happened, okay? I knew it wouldn’t because the other me held it in the other world and there was no fucking problem. So. Can we go?” Dean met Sam’s gaze for a moment, saw the annoyance and irritation there and looked away.

“Fine.” Sam brushed past his brother, deliberately knocking hard into his shoulder. “Just stop being such a dick.” Taking full advantage of his long legs Sam strode down the hallway without waiting for Dean.

Dean stayed silent as he followed Sam, thinking about how he could remember holding his hand when they walked. Only he couldn’t because that wasn’t _them_. And he thought he could recall the taste of Sam’s lips, the heat of his body, the way he’d smiled at Dean like he was the most amazing and wonderful thing alive.

They were halfway back to the motel before Dean completely caught up with his brother and managed to get his words to form. “I want the other world to be real.” It was quiet, like a dirty confession, like a kiss Sam should push away from. Dean kept his eyes everywhere but on his brother.

Sam simply pressed his lips together and kept walking. There was nothing about that quiet statement that surprised him. Dean was happy in the other place - relaxed, gentle, loving and _happy_. Why would he want to stay with Sam in this crazy world? Sam felt like he did nothing but screw shit up and stand by while Dean tried to fix it.

“I want it, too. That’s why I know it’s not real.” He stumbled slightly and recovered quickly. Dreams like that were just meant to torment people like him and his brother.

“Why can’t it be real?” Dean asked and the words sounded a little too pained and whiny to his own ears. Clearing his throat, he tried to bring some logic into the argument. “What if it’s like, what happened there? What if when I kissed you, you didn’t pull away and we became something more and we stopped hunting because I couldn’t take the risk of you getting hurt, not now that I had you. Why can’t that be real?” He tugged the motel key from his pocket, glad for the distraction since his eyes still couldn’t quite settle on Sam.

"Dean." Sam's voice sounded much sadder than he meant it to. But then, his heart was aching listening to the almost-pleading tone in his brother's voice. As soon as Dean unlocked the door and pushed it open Sam was inside pacing. "Dean, we're _brothers_. The fact that this-" he waves his hands between them, "this _feeling_ we have exists is just another sign of how screwed up our lives are.”

“So?” Dean shut the door quietly behind him and leaned against it, tucking his hands back under his body. He felt for all of the world like a little kid being lectured on why having a cookie before dinner was bad. It was hard to take Sam’s argument seriously when he could still feel the ghost of heat from their bodies colliding. “Our lives are always going to be this fucked up. You were happy there, right? And you’re not, here. And what’s the one major thing you have there that you don’t have here? Me. So, there you go.”

“Dean we’re not _hunting_ there either. You gonna tell me that we could have just walked away from everything? What about the people we’ve helped, the things we’ve stopped from happening?” Sam’s eyes were wide; he couldn’t believe they were going to have this out now.

“Dean, what about Bobby?” Sam sank down on the bottom of his bed. “You think he’d just watch us walk away from hunting? And.... and how do you even have a life -brothers together?” Sam’s cheeks flushed. He knew how they could have a life because he’s _seen_ it somehow, with his own eyes.

“We managed to figure it out,” Dean said quietly, but the argument in him was failing. Sam was right, he was the logical smart one that used his brain and kept them from sticky situations. He pushed away from the door and he felt only numb, kicking out of his shoes, sliding his jacket off. All these things he’d done a million times and he’d never _hated_ them before. “Fine. Let’s email Bobby, figure out how to make it stop.” The sooner he could put it behind the better it would be, because they weren’t those other guys, and he had to accept that.

“Dean. It’s gonna be okay, you know.” Sam stood again, walking over to the door to toe off his boots. “We won’t always feel like this - it’s fresh and hard because it’s so _real_ and in our faces. Right?” Padding over to stand beside his brother Sam hesitated, then smoothed his hand along the side of his brother’s head.

“Don’t.” Dean recoiled from the touch and stared up at Sam through blurry eyes. “I can’t- it’s still. _Jesus_ Sam less than twenty minutes ago I was _fucking_ you. If you think I can just see you as my brother again, it’s not- it’s going to take a while.” He felt dizzy, slightly sick, and annoyed with the level of _ache_ coursing through him. “We’re not them, and you’ve made it clear we’re not going to be. I’m going to respect that but I’m gonna need time. And _this_ fucking over.” He gestured toward the statue, tempted to pace over to it and smash it.

Sam took a step back, a little shocked and more than a little hurt. “Do you really hate it here with me that much?”

“I.” Dean wet his lips and scanned the ground, biting his bottom lip as his eyes continued to water. “Do you know how much I- fuck. Sam, I feel just like that Dean. _Just_ like him. Only he gets you and I don’t. And I can handle it, I can deal. I don’t _hate_ being here with you. It’s just different.” He shrugged and turned his back to Sam. “I’ll get over it.”

“So this is all me. My fault. According to your theory.” Sam moved away from Dean and busied himself trying to find something in his duffel bag. Anything. Some reason to not look across the room at his brother.

“I never said that. I said you made the choice and I’m going to accept that. I’m not trying to guilt trip you into being in love with me, god.” Dean sighed heavily. He wished he was in that other world, where he didn’t say things that pissed Sam off and tore them even further apart. “Look. Let’s just figure out how to fix the thing then we can do whatever, take some time apart, whatever you want.”

"Time apart?" Sam gave up the pretense of looking through his bag and whirled to face his brother. 'Where the _fuck_ did you get that idea?" Sam closed the distance between them and snatched at his brother's shirt to spin him around. "Fuck you, Dean. You are _not_ the only one hurting here so give up the ‘poor me’ shit. I never said a _fucking_ thing about us being apart. So maybe that's what _you_ want."

“Maybe it is what I want.” Dean spat through clenched jaws, staring hard at Sam. “It’s either that or I fucking lose it and kiss you and I _know_ that’s not what you want.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, heart slamming hard into his chest. “If you’re so fucking _hurt_ then maybe you would just get over whatever moral dilemma you’re caught on and let us have something fucking _amazing_.”

"How do you _know_ what it would be like? Just because some messed up curse or spell or something has woven this happy little world that you wanna run off to doesn't mean it would work like that. And stop talking like me being hurt is some stupid thing I've made up. Why do you think this is harder for you?" Sam shoved his brother hard, watching him stumble back a couple of steps. "I was the one who had to say _no_. Do you know how hard that was? Do you have _any_ idea?"

“Then stop fucking saying _no_. You don’t get to play guilt trip when you’re the reason for your fucking pain. Any time Sam, any time you want it and it’s yours. So just-” Dean stopped mid sentence, hands falling to his sides when a buzzing started low in the room. “Oh _fuck_ no.” He shuddered slightly, stumbling forward.

Sam moved closer, legs feeling like he was trying to run through deep water. He reached out his hand for his brother’s and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Tight heat encased Dean’s body and before he opened his eyes, before he even _breathed_ , he was aware of Sam’s body still on his, still rolling down on him. His blood was racing but he couldn’t decide if it was from this, _here_ , Sam’s heat nearly overwhelming, or from the argument they’d just been having. Not them, the other them. “Fuck, Sammy I’m sorry,” he whispered, apologizing for the him that wasn’t him, arms sliding tight around Sam’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.” His hips were still rolling up, unable to stop, lips kissing constantly along Sam’s face.

Sam melted against Dean's body;his hands moved desperately up Dean's neck and into his hair. A half sob, half moan left Sam's lips and was muffled by Dean's mouth as their lips finally crushed together again. This couldn’t be wrong, not the way Sam’s heart was thudding, blood rushing hot through his veins. “Dean, love you. Don’t say sorry,” he whispered.

“But, you were so, we were fighting and-” Dean gasped into the kiss, arms sliding under Sam’s and tightening around his back. “ _Jesus_ , I’m still in you, how does this even happen?” His hips jerked up again only because he was seeking for something to ease the ache, to make it better, to fix what didn’t even need to be fixed.

“Shut up,” Sam murmured. Hooking his arms around Dean’s shoulders he rolled himself back and forward, sliding slick and smooth on his brother’s cock. He wanted this, just for a few more moments. Moaning softly, he caught his brother’s mouth against his, lips parting with a gentle puff of air as he sank down on his brother’s shaft again.

A moan rocked through Dean and he let it wipe out the rest of his thoughts, body snapping up against his brother’s. His hand tightened on the back of Sam’s skull, pulling him in so that their lips could rock hard and almost painfully together. Above him, Sam’s body was fluid, a constant sliding movement, rocking onto Dean harder and harder. Dean shoved a hand roughly between them, stroking along his brother’s cock to meet and match each hard thrust up.

Sam shuddered, all his muscles trembling with pleasure at Dean's touch - their reunion - finding their way _back_. His hips jerked forward, sending his dick sliding fast through his brother's grip and he came. Jolts of heat pulsed through his body as his come shot warm and slick between their bodies. Murmuring his brother's name, Sam clung to him.

The clench of muscles around his cock, the way Sam’s body stuttered over him added to absolutely _everything_ that was too much for Dean to handle and he lost control. His hips snapped up hard half a dozen times as he came in his brother, filling him. When he dropped back onto the couch he held Sam tight to his body, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of them drifting up in waves. “Fuck.” He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips to Sam’s shoulder.

“It’s us,” Sam blurted out. “We’re real. I’m not going back there again. We have to do something.” But he didn’t move, couldn’t move because that cold feeling of Dean pushing him away was still lingering around the edges of his mind.

“We’ll fix it,” Dean insisted, latching onto the thought that Sam needed him, needed him to be strong and keep them together now. “Sammy? You’re right, it’s not us. This is real. That thing, what happened, I would _never_ treat you like that.” He was being an ass in that other world, it wasn’t him. This was real. The size of Dean’s headache was immeasurable.

“Most messed up thing ever,” Sam murmured. He lapped at the salty sweat on Dean’s skin then sucked gently. “M’not letting go of you.” Enough was enough. Sam couldn’t take anymore. He didn’t want to be _that_ person, the one who prevented them from being happy. Hell, he couldn’t even understand how it happened, how that other Sam was still managing to convince himself that he’d made the right decision.

“Just...” Dean chuckled softly, lifting Sam until he fell free from him. “More comfortable,” he murmured and pulled Sam into him, stroking hands along his skin. “We need to email Bobby, actually. We should call him. We need to make this stop because it’s killing us.” Dean sighed heavily and adjusted Sam on his lap, reaching out for his discarded sweats and wiping Sam’s chest down. “But don’t get off my lap. Just, stay here. Please.” He couldn’t bear the idea of Sam moving away any time soon.

“Just try and get rid of me.” Sam tried for a teasing tone but it came out sounding entirely too shaky. But he smiled anyway and settled back against his brother’s chest. Dean’s breathing comforted him, the consistent and slow in-out of air. Turning slightly, he listened to his brother’s heart beat, steady and strong.

Adjusting Sam on his lap, Dean let Sam settle against him and half stretched across the couch to grab the home phone. Hell, they had a _home phone_ , why would they want anything different from that? Bobby’s number was number nine of the speed dial, behind their jobs, each others’ cells, and a couple of friends. _Friends_ , how could they even think of giving that up?

“Okay, I’ll call. And, I just pray he’s there.” Dean sighed quietly and slid his hand up to cradle Sam’s skull, fingers sliding through his hair slowly as he pressed the phone to his ear. It didn’t matter if Sam was six foot five and over two hundred pounds, with muscles and curves and not the little boy Dean had once cuddled on his lap. He was distracted by his brother breathing against his skin, little puffs of warm air releasing over him.

Bobby’s answer was gruff and hoarse across the line. He sounded mildly surprised to hear from Dean - causing him to feel temporarily guilty for not calling in so long - but his surprise pretty rapidly switched to annoyance as Dean fumbled through the story of their back and forth realities.

“Why the hell did you keep that thing in the first place?” Bobby nearly growled and Dean didn’t have to try hard to imagine his disapproval.

“I don’t know?” Dean frowned and his fingers continued to graze through Sam’s hair slowly. “We just, didn’t get rid of most of that stuff. Look, this is really- it’s wearing on us, Bobby. It’s too much and we need to make it stop.”

“You idjit, you break the damn thing and it’ll stop. Simple. How you two made it this far in life is beyond me.” He was still grumbling for awhile, the words dropping lower and lower.

Dean’s eyebrows lifted slightly as he heard more than a few curses. “Okay. Okay, I get it. So what, we smash it and that other world goes away? And we’ll be left alone.”

The cursing on the line stops and Dean can hear papers shuffling, just the slightest wheeze of Bobby’s breath. He didn’t bother speaking then, just held the phone back slightly from his ear and tipped Sam’s head back, slanting their lips together for a soft and gentle kiss. He keeps the phone far enough away that Bobby won’t hear as he continues the slow kisses, deep with long drawn out with Sam.

“Dean!” The call was loud over the phone and Dean jerked back from Sam, blinking a few times before pressing the phone up to his ear.

“Sorry. I was uh-”

“I don’t need to know. Look, it’s simple. Your statue destroys your world, their statue destroys theirs.”

Dean sat in silence for a long moment, staring out at nothing before clearing his throat. “How is that simple?”

“Fuck, it is if you ain’t gotta make that choice.” Bobby huffed and paused for a moment. “Guess you two gotta decide which life you want. Ain’t my place to say.”

Just like that the call is over, speaking to just how much Bobby didn’t want to give an opinion on what they should or shouldn’t do. Dean slowly dropped the phone to the couch, fingers sliding along Sam’s legs. “Did you hear that?”

“Easy choice then.” Sam nuzzled against his brother’s neck. But it didn’t _feel_ quite that easy. “Isn’t it?”

“Sure it’s an easy choice for us. But,” Dean sighed, heart clenching tightly in his chest. “They have to break theirs. That’s the only way we get to have this. They have to break their statue and if they don’t then-” Dean frowned, swallowing thickly. “It’ll just keep happening until someone breaks their statue.”

Sam kept running over it all trying to figure out what the difference was. What had happened that had made him take the chance. “I don’t understand.” He slid off Dean’s lap but stayed pressed against his side, leg still thrown over his brother’s thighs. “Why did things get so different? We’re the same people. I can’t - I don’t understand.”

“It’s like, our paths diverged when I kissed you. In one world, you kissed me back and we had this perfect thing. What we are now. And in the other, you pushed me away. It’s like the two different paths we could have taken at that time split off and created two worlds and somehow these statues control that.” Dean knew that the other him, the one in that world where he was sad and lonely and aching, wanted their world. It would be a matter of convincing the other Sam. Maybe. “We need them to know why this is worth it. We need them to believe it.”

“How do we know we’re doing the right thing? Jesus, Dean, this is like some fucked up horror movie. If we chose wrong - what does that mean? What if they’re right? What if this should never have happened?” Sam was reminded of the arguments he’d made to the other Dean and his heart clenched in his chest.

“Why would you even say that?” Dean whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t. Don’t say this could be wrong at all. It’s not. This is right, this is perfect. _We’re_ perfect. Seriously Sam, when we fight it’s over whose turn it is to do the laundry and what type of cereal to buy. They fight over everything. They don’t talk, they don’t touch, they hunt and I fuck random strangers and drink too much. How could that possibly be right?” Dean shook his head, unable to believe it could be.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice broke and he rubbed a hand down his face. “I can’t. I can’t keep doing this. I’m, I feel like I’m gonna just snap. My mind is all fucked up. There are so many thoughts and it’s all getting mixed up inside. _Jesus_ , we have to do something.” Panic was trailing its cold fingers down Sam’s spine and he lifted his gaze to find his brother’s soft green eyes.

“You don’t want to break ours, do you?” Dean asked quietly, meeting Sam’s gaze. “To make it stop.”

“God Dean, no. But. It’s gotta stop - it’s like torture or... worse.” Sam’s fingers were curled hard into Dean’s arm and his vision was blurring as tears welled along the bottom of his eyes. “I’m hurting him... _you_ so badly and I-” Sucking in a breath, Sam leaned forward slowly and pressed his forehead to Dean’s shoulder. “I just want it to stop,” he whispered.

“I know,” Dean murmured and curled his arm protectively around Sam. He sent a silent thought out to the other him, pleading with him to convince his Sam that this could be perfect. After all, they’d spent all their lives saving others, they deserved this. Happiness.

This time when the buzzing began Dean wasn’t pained to hear it. “They’ll make the right choice,” Dean breathed into his brother’s hair, closing his eyes to ride out the incoming wave of dizzying darkness.

Sam tightened his arms around Dean as though somehow he could hold on to their world.

By this point Dean wasn’t even that surprised to wake up on the floor with Sam’s body half slumped over his. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and whatever he and Sam had been fighting about was all but gone from his mind. Likely because he could still feel just the faintest heat of Sam’s large frame curled on his lap like there was no place he’d rather be.

Sitting up slowly, he stared down at Sam, fingers sliding through his soft silky hair. “I could sleep for a week.” He was too worn out for this and he glanced toward the statue, wondering if he could be strong enough to just dart across the room and throw it at the wall.

Humming his agreement Sam turned his head into the touch. Reaching up he wiped at his face, surprised to find tears there. “We have to stop it, someone has to stop it,” he mumbled. Blinking up at Dean, Sam struggled to pull himself up so he was sitting cross legged in front of his brother. “We need to make a choice.”

“Well, seems like they’ve pretty much decided. I mean, if we decide not to break ours, what if they won’t break theirs? And it just keeps going back and forth.” The idea alone had Dean shuddering. “There has to be some sort of clause to it, like, it’ll only switch so many times or something. Or, well, all of this started because we got close to it, right? What if we just, throw it in a lake somewhere or something and get the hell out of here? Would it stop?”

Sam was silent for a few moments, simply stared at Dean. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against his brother’s. One smooth slide of lips, smooth and soft and he pulled back. He didn’t want to _never_ have given Dean that if they weren’t going to exist much longer. He didn’t want to have never given _himself_ that.

Blinking at Sam, Dean struggled with the urge to press in and claim those lips as his. Because they could be. And in a world that wasn’t here they were. “Was that a goodbye kiss?” he asked quietly, half smiling at Sam.

Sam felt tears slip slowly down his cheeks again. “I guess so. You gotta know, I always-” Sam’s voice broke and he looked down at the ground between them.

“I know, Sam.” Dean reached out for his hands, curling them between his fingers. “I know. It’s, this is for the best, right? Because we’re happy there. And we have a life, a home, friends. We can be together there.” It was a weird place to be, thinking that he was basically agreeing to kill both himself and his brother so the other versions of them could live on. It didn’t make sense, not really, but so little did in their lives.

Blinking a few times Sam lifted his eyes. “I might be a little scared.” His hands were shaking; everything in him wanted to believe that they were making the right choice. But so many things had gone wrong, Sam had made so many bad decisions. Dean always seemed to be paying the price for that.

“Me too,” Dean admitted and pulled Sam close, holding him like he hadn’t in years. Or, just a few minutes, really. Whatever. “We can do this, though. Think about how you felt there, you know yourself, it’s what you want, right?” He breathed in the familiar scent of after shave and gun powder. “We love each other and get to be together there.”

Nodding slowly, Sam let his arms slide around his brother’s back, letting the strength he could feel comfort him. “I just wish, I’d been brave enough to do it.” Sam’s lips moved against Dean’s neck, gentle, sweet and slow. All the tenderness he’d never been able to show his brother was _right_ there.

“It’s okay. We would have just ended up in the same place, right? So, it’s just.” Dean sighed and looked up at the statue, hating the thing even more at the moment. “Are you sure, Sam? Because, we can tell them, I mean. If we decide to stay here.” Dean sighed even louder, longer, and slid his hand back into Sam’s hair.

“Do it.” Sam’s voice was soft, but firm. Leaning forward, he pressed up against his brother’s body and buried his face in the leather and _Dean_ smell.

For just a few minutes Dean held Sam, closing his eyes and remembering this. He had to reassure himself that it wasn’t an end. That there was more than this. There was a whole world out there for them. “Okay,” he finally whispered and tipped Sam back, cupping his jaw and bringing him in for a long, slow kiss. When he fell back he let his forehead rest against Sam’s for a moment longer before pushing up to his feet, crossing the room to the statue.

“Ready?” he asked quietly, turning to look back at his brother.

“M’ready.” Sam smiled softly and wrapped his arms across his chest. He could get through this as long as he was with Dean. It would be okay.

Dean curled his fingers around the statue, eyes locking with Sam’s. It made the strangest buzzing noise as he lifted it, like it knew what was coming. “See you on the other side.” Dean smirked briefly at his brother before turning and throwing the idol across the room. It hit the wall with a deafening shatter that Dean hardly had time to register before everything was black.

The weight that had been pressing on Dean all day was gone. He felt light, better than, and he could feel the warmth of his brother on his lap and smiled. “Thank god.” It was over, and though he felt the slightest sadness that their counterparts had to give up their life, he was more than relieved to be back in his own once more.

Sam was exhausted. He lifted his face, bleary-eyed and panting softly to look at his brother. “Is it over?” It felt over. His heart was aching at the heat of the other Dean’s kiss; the way Sam had felt such warmth in his heart when his brother has smiled. And here he was, with _his_ Dean, which should make him happier than anything. But somehow, it felt a little like he’d lost part of himself. “Whoa,” he murmured. “That was harder... than I expected. I mean-” He shrugged, unable to quite get it into words.

“I know. I feel like we stole their lives.” Dean swallowed thickly and wrapped his arms tight around Sam, closing his eyes as he struggled with the remaining waves of conflicting emotions coursing through him. “We have to make it up to them. We have to live the best lives, for them.” It was the least they could do, and Dean wanted to know that they hadn’t sacrificed themselves in vain.

Sam couldn’t help a small smile. “You sound like one of those inspirational speakers.” His teasing was gentle, tentative, seeing if they really were going to be alright.

A soft laugh rolled through Dean and he turned to nuzzle his nose into Sam’s hair. “Yeah yeah, you know what I mean though, right?” Sam smelled like fresh shampoo and _them_ , nothing like gun powder, and he found he still liked it better. “Let’s nap.” Or sleep for an entire week - he’d never been so exhausted.

“I feel like we’ve been in and out of bed a thousand times today.” Sam’s mind was still a bit messed up, like it was all cloudy or full of cotton. And every now and again he thought he could hear the buzzing that had always signified the change, but it was just his ears or maybe his heart.

“No nap?” Dean asked with a slight smile, pulling back a little to meet his brother’s eyes. “We’re okay right? You and me, we’re good?” If they weren’t then this entire thing was a moot point, and the other Sam and Dean had wasted their lives.

Sam frowned and shifting so that he could slip both hands around his brother’s neck to pull him closer. “You and I are perfect. I love you, Dean. _More_ than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I don’t care about anything else....just this. If I’ve got this, I can make it through anything.”

Dean laughed softly and nodded. “No kidding. I can’t even decide what I want more. To hold you, to kiss you, or to eat.” A slow grin pulled at Dean’s lips and he pushed forward, slanting their lips together. “Kissing you won out.”

“What time is the BBQ?” It seemed like a ridiculous question but Sam didn’t want to find himself half naked with tear-stained cheeks when company descended upon them. The day had been traumatic enough.

“Not until seven, we’ve got time.” Dean actually had no idea what time it was and blinked in surprised at the clock. “Shit, it’s only ten. Feels like a week has passed or something.” He ran his fingers along Sam’s cheeks, pursing his lips at him, trying to gauge how _okay_ things really were.

Sam eyed the idol suspiciously. “What happens if ours gets broken?” He blinked a few times and looked back and Dean, fingers tightening on his brother’s neck.

“I have no idea. The other world isn’t there though, so, nothing? We should put it somewhere safe, just in case.” They’d have to look that up probably, because if it breaking meant the end of them he wanted it somewhere no one could find it.

“I’m sorry,” Sam muttered. He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned back on the couch, eyes moving over the ceiling.

“Why are you sorry?” Dean turned to him, frowning slightly. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“For making you feel the way I did.” He didn’t need to say where. He could tell by the look on Dean’s face that he knew. “He ... you were right. It was all my fault. I should have been ... I don’t know. I don’t know what made me make the right choice here.” He rolled his head on the couch so he could peer at Dean through his bangs.

“Hey, you don’t have to.” Dean sighed and reached out to cup Sam’s jaw, sliding his fingers along his skin. “You did make the right choice. And we’re here because of it. I don’t have any bad feelings about any of that stuff anymore. I get to have you and that’s all that matters, okay?” He didn’t mind reassuring his brother; in the beginning they’d often needed that comfort from one another.

Sam nodded and shook his head. “Fuck... I need a drink.” He laughed wryly and sat back again, letting his head drop back onto the couch. “Or to sleep for a week or somethin’.”

“Let’s have a strong drink. And then sleep.” Dean laughed softly and pushed up to his feet. “You stay here, I’ll bust out the whiskey.”

“Fuck that.” Sam was up just as fast as Dean. “Not letting you out of my sight for a week.” When Dean looked a little surprised Sam just raised his eyebrows. “Maybe longer.”

Dean tipped his head back with laughter and hooked his arm back around to pull Sam close. “Alright. I think I can live with that.” It was definitely better than the alternative, and that was really all that mattered to Dean. Besides Sam.


End file.
